


To Pick a Primrose

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Human AU, King - Freeform, Royalty, castle - Freeform, finding a wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The king must find a wife, eligible women are brought to the castle for the king to choose who will become his queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Pick a Wife

**Author's Note:**

> This is written with the help of my cohort, friend and conspirator Goldwerewolf. The idea for the story was hers but she allowed me to run with it.  
> Strawberries and breeding dragonflies/butterflies ideas are from RazormusPrime  
> One of the kisses in Chapter 4 was inspired by Dragon Age: Inquistion

Pale sunlight came through the windows set high in the walls that circled the upper reaches of the throne room. Several people stood around dressed in court finery, watching the king. The tall, thin man did not look at all pleased. The throne room was deadly quiet. Bog sat on his throne, legs spread, his elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers flexed slowly as he scanned the room with a look of such utter contempt for what was going on that it was almost palpable. His advisers stood before him, looking unsure of what to do next. They had come to inform him that, with the urging of the queen mother, young available women of noble standing would be arriving within the next several weeks. It was expected that he would choose a wife from among them. Brochan, or as he preferred to be called, Bog, was not amused with anyone right now as he glared at his advisers and most especially his mother. 

Bog's mother was the only one not affected by Bog's very intimidating glare. 

She grinned, running her hands over her dress of palest grey. “It will be wonderful, Bog dear! We will hold a ball. You can met all these wonderful eligible young women and soon the palace will be filled with grandchildren!” 

She clapped her hands in excitement at the thought of grandchildren. 

Bog groaned and then snarled. “Everyone OUT!” 

The advisers took off as quickly, not wanting to catch the full wrath of their king. Bog was a fair and just ruler, no one had any complaints, except where it came to love. The succession needed to be secured, but Bog's ban on love had left the kingdom worried that there were would be no prince or princess for the future of the throne. While Bog's ban on love did not truly affect his people, it affected him. He had refused to hold any events over the last five years that would put him in the same space as available women. He steadfastly refused to look for a wife. He refused to meet single daughters of other monarchs or to even speak with anyone who could potentially be a bride. He had even banned talk of love in his presence. He had restricted himself in his relationships. Thus, he was a dark and very lonely man. 

The woman he had loved, had thought he was going to marry, had broken his heart with utter betrayal. No one, except Bog and his mother, knew all the details of what had happened. 

But five years to brood had been enough for the kingdom. 

Bog snarled at his mother as soon as they were alone. “I donna need a wife, mother!” 

Griselda, Bog's mother, simply ignored her son. “Yes, you do. I will not have you die sad and alone. You need a successor. A child, preferably a whole passel of children!” 

Bog groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose knowing that arguing with her was pointless once she made her mind up. 

“Fine, mother. I will allow these women to come here, but I swear I am not promising to marry anybody!” 

Griselda grinned. 

* 

Marianne held the summons in its flowing, curving script. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared at the paper. She did not like to be “summoned,” “commanded,” or anything that implied that she did not have a say in the action she was to undertake. This summons, from the palace, made her feel as if she were being made part of a meat market. She glared at her father who had shown it to her. “This is insulting.” 

Dagda, her father, rubbed his forehead. He loved his eldest daughter, but since her failed engagement last year she had been most difficult. “Marianne, it is not a summon—it is a request. You could be queen!” 

Marianne tossed the paper down. “I don't want to go, father. This is stupid.” 

Dagda placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders. “Please, Marianne, go, meet the king. Maybe nothing will happen, maybe you will meet someone? Just, you need to get out and this is a perfect opportunity. Please. Just to make me happy? You can take Dawn with you.” 

She sighed. There was no use arguing with her father and if Dawn heard about a chance to go to the palace and Marianne didn't take it, Dawn would kill her. 

“Fine, but I won't be marrying the king.” 

Her father pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, dear.” 

* 

Marianne's coach pulled up in front of the palace. There were people everywhere. She was wearing a dress in a soft shade of lavender with her hair done up under a feather hat. Dawn looked out of the coach window, her eyes huge. There were so many people milling about, servants, young women, mothers and fathers. “I didn't think there would be so many people here! Look how huge the palace is??!” Marianne made a face, prompting Dawn to lean forward and smack her knee. “Marianne, stop it!” 

Marianne made yet another face, but Dawn kept her hands to herself distracted with staring out the window. The castle was tall. High, slender towers crowned with pointed peaks seemed to reach toward the sky as if trying to stretch themselves into heaven. Everything about the structure was sharp and imposing. Marianne frowned as she looked out the window at it. There was a prickliness about it. Dawn's voice was full of wonder. “Doesn't it look like one of the enchanted castles in our fairy stories?” Marianne tilted her head. 

“Maybe.” The castle was positioned in a valley, which was unusual; instead of looking down on the land it was hidden in the darkness of the trees that surrounded it. The place made Marianne think of hiding, as if the king wanted to hide away. 

* 

Bog paced in his rooms. He was dressed in a dark suit of blue grey. His boots were shiny black and his hair was slicked back. He stared at himself in the mirror as his mother fussed with tiny details, dusting away imaginary fuzz. She smiled “You look so handsome.” 

Bog scoffed. “No, I don't, mother.” 

She took his hands “Bog, you are very handsome.” 

He sighed. “Mother. Let's be honest. I am not handsome. I barely pass as presentable.” 

She huffed, reaching up to pat his cheek “I promise you, one of these young ladies will see how handsome and wonderful you are, Bog.” 

He gave her a look of complete skepticism just as his personal secretary quietly came in. “Sir, they are ready.” 

Bog rolled his eyes, running his hands down his chest. “Fine, let's get this over with.” 

* 

Marianne had her arms crossed over her chest as she waited her turn to be announced. Dawn was practically vibrating beside her with excitement. Her sister looked lovely in a pale blue dress that made her eye dance, her long blonde hair piled up in curls atop her head. Marianne's lavender dress was so pale that the color was only noticeable when the light danced off of it. Marianne's hair was up as well, but long loose curls softened the edges of her angular face. A ribbon that Dawn had woven into her hair matched her dress, though Marianne's face was far from excited. She was annoyed and it showed. 

Each young lady was brought forward into the hall, introduced and then stepped to the side. Most of the young women here made Marianne want to hit something. All she could think about was how she could be home right now practicing her fencing on a dummy, stabbing it in the heart over and over. 

As she and her sister stepped forward, their titles being announced, Marianne could not help but stare at the monarch. King Brochan stood near his throne, holding his long staff of office beside him. He was quite tall, thin, and the obvious scowl on his visage was aimed at everyone and everything. He was very intimidating with his sharp features and furrowed brow, but his eyes were such an intense blue! The frock coat he wore was of fine material with gold buttons, the vest underneath was ornate, with thread of gold in the complicated primrose pattern and his boots caught all the light in the room as he glared. 

She was surprised. She curtsied at the same moment as her sister, then stepped back. Bog frowned when Marianne Summerfield, daughter of Lord Summerfield and her sister were announced. She was lovely. He found himself staring at her, confused for a moment because unlike many of the other young ladies who glanced at him, their disappointment clear on their faces, she had only stared back at him with a soft smile. Bog was forced to pull his gaze away from her to see the next young lady. 

As she stood there waiting with the other women who had already been introduced, Marianne kept watching the king. She could tell he was nervous by the way his fingers would constantly flex on the staff, or how he would shift his feet. She watched him bow his head slightly when she heard several of the women around her whispering. “Oh my god, I hope he doesn't choose me! He is so ugly!” “Did you see that nose? He is so skinny!! Ugh!!” “I thought kings were suppose to be handsome. Well, I could get past his face to be queen.” 

Marianne said nothing, but her hands at her sides slowly formed into fists. 

* 

The first dinner was a large affair with King Brochan sitting at the head of the longest table Marianne had ever seen. Everyone stood until the king had entered with the queen mother. The dining hall was quite large, very ornate with ivory and gold being the main themes of the room. Marianne had to force down a laugh. The queen mother was so different compared to her son. She was very short and plump with a jolly face, smiling at all the guests whereas the king looked ready to start yelling for hangings and beheading at any moment. It was clear he did not want to be there and Marianne would guess he was uncomfortable, especially when the eyes of every young woman turned to look at him. He walked gracefully, keeping his steps short for his mother's sake. Marianne smiled softly at that. He seemed annoyed, but there was something about the way he held his arm, his mother's hand on his sleeve and his staff in his other hand. He cared for her, clearly. She heard one of the women near her mutter. “He is so ugly! But did you see that one lord? Roland I think his name is? Oh, he is so dreamy!!” 

Marianne went very still. Roland? Here? 

The king pulled out the chair on his right for his mother and then moved to his. He looked down the table, his scowl firmly in place before he sat. Everyone at the table sat a moment later. 

Soon conversation started. Marianne forgot about Roland as she gazed at the head of the table. She was too far down to hear what the king was saying, but he seemed to keep most of his attention on his mother and very occasionally to a rather rotund man to his left who looked to only have eyes for the queen mother. The king's blue eyes would dart around, hazarding a glance down the table taking in the young women and then just as quickly return to his plate or his wine glass. At one point, he happened to look down the table at the same moment that Marianne looked up, their eyes meeting. His blue eyes widened in surprise. When she smiled, nodding her head to him in greeting, even from this distance she would swear a blush flooded his cheeks. 

She smiled to herself, returning her attention to her dinner when he swiftly dropped his eyes. 

** 

The following day, each young woman was given a schedule. It was divided in such a way that each lady would get to spend time with the king alone during several different activities over the next several weeks. Marianne was sitting on her bed looking it over while Dawn laid out her dresses for the day. “This is so ridiculous!” Marianne tossed the paper onto the bed. Dawn came over picking it up. “It's not ridiculous—they are trying to help the king find a wife. He can't exactly get to know everyone by meeting in a group, you know.” 

Marianne stuck her tongue out at her sister. Holding the sheet in one hand, Dawn put her hands on her hips giving her sister a significant look. “You, sister dear, are acting childish.” 

Marianne threw herself back onto the bed. “Ugh!” 

Dawn hopped onto the bed beside her. “Come on, get dressed. We will have breakfast and walk the gardens. Sunny said they are beautiful.” 

Marianne gave Dawn a sideways glance. Sunny, their father's groom, had come with them, how Dawn had finagled that Marianne was not sure, but Dawn was as happy as could be with her best friend here. Marianne suspected there was more there, but Dawn did not seem to realize it yet. 

“Fine, when am I suppose to meet his majesty?” 

Dawn looked over the schedule. “Oh, you get to have tea with him!” 

Marianne let her sister help her dress and fix her hair. The two of them had always relied on each other after their mother passed away. While they could have had ladies' maids, neither girl wanted that, happy to do their dressing and makeup tasks themselves. It helped the two sisters form an unbreakable bond. 

Dawn dressed her sister in a deep rose dress that hung on her slim figure looking for all the world like flower petals. Her thick dark brown hair was piled and curled, with a matching ribbon. Marianne made a face in the mirror. “Sometimes I think of cutting it all off.” 

Dawn looked scandalized. “Marianne!” 

Marianne wrinkled her nose. “Well, I do!” 

Dawn finished with her hair, weaving the ribbon and letting the remaining cloth fall elegantly down her back. “You look like a fairy princess.” Her sister sighed happily, making Marianne smile. 

* 

The gardens were indeed beautiful. The two sisters walked together arm in arm. Marianne was making some comment about wishing she had brought her sword when up ahead she saw the king, a young woman on his arm. Marianne yanked down into some bushes, making Dawn yelp in surprise. Marianne covered her sister's mouth with her hand. 

“Shhh!!” 

The king looked rather uncomfortable in his dark suit that looked to Marianne as if it were so new it did not fit the poor man comfortably, and the young woman on his arm looked annoyed in her overdone hair, with a dress that squeezed her middle until the poor thing probably could not breathe. 

She could hear the king speaking—his accent was lovely. He tried to talk about the gardens, but the young woman with him seemed uninterested. Marianne studied him from her hiding place. He was scowling again, his long nose wrinkled, the crowfeet around his eyes deep. He reminded her of his castle, tall, lean and prickly. As she studied him, she didn't think he was angry, just nervous, which made her smile. Poor man may be king, but he was just a man forced into a situation he clearly was not happy with or prepared for. The glances that the young woman with him kept sending his way when he was not looking made Marianne want to step out of hiding and slap her silly. The young woman was clearly thinking cruel thoughts about him. 

It was clear to her the poor man was nervous and trying, but that woman seemed, well, disgusted. Finally they passed by. Marianne was able to yank her sister out of the bushes. 

“Why were we hiding??” Dawn pouted as she brushed off her dress, pulling a few leaves from her hair. 

“Because I didn't want them to see us. What time is tea?” 

Dawn sighed not understanding her sister at all. 

** 

She was led by a butler into a beautiful room. It was decorated in rich browns and reds, a small room shaped in a circle with tall windows that allowed one to look out into another part of the castles large gardens. It might have seemed overly ornate with its paintings that covered the walls, plus the intricate details in the wood trim, but there was a coziness to the room that she actually liked. There was a small round table in the middle of the room with two chairs. The table was simple though she could tell it was made of fine wood and excellent craftsmanship. It was set with an exquisite tea set decorated with hand-painted primroses. There was also a triple layered serving set of silver which was layered with small sandwiches and tiny cakes for an afternoon tea. 

Marianne was shown to a seat, the butler bowing. “His majesty will be with you soon.” Then he turned and left. Marianne looked around, there were painted scenes on the ceiling, though she couldn't really tell what they depicted as she narrowed her eyes trying to get a better look. She was so engrossed that she didn't hear him enter. Bog stood there watching her as she strained her neck trying to look at the ceiling. He smirked. “It's a scene from some opera. Not really certain, but when I was a child I imagined that it was a story of a woman who fell in love with a dragon.” Marianne jerked in surprise. The king leaned in the doorway, his tall lean frame seeming to fill the entire space. He had his arms folded across his chest accompanied by a slight smile. He was wearing the same outfit from earlier when she had seen him walking in the garden though he seemed more comfortable now. She blushed glancing back up at the painted ceiling. “I can see why you imagine that.” She pointed at the dragon. “The way the dragon is leaning toward her. He looks enamored of her.” 

He stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I always thought of myself as the dragon. Looking for love that I could never have.” 

Marianne was startled by his frank speech. She tilted her head, examining him as he continued to stare upward. “You're odd. For a king you don't think much of yourself do you?” 

He glanced back down, his blue eyes meeting her warm brown gaze. “Plainly spoken, but yes, I suppose it's not so much as a king that I fall short, but as a man.” Marianne flushed and started to apologize, but the king held up a hand in dismissal with a slight smile on his thin lips. 

He took the seat opposite hers, reaching out to pick up the teapot surprising her. He glanced up seeing the surprise clear on her face. 

“I, well, I thought it might be better without servants here. I usually serve tea when it is just my mother and me.” 

He actually looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushed. His sharp features were not unattractive at all. This close Marianne could really see him. His eyes were gentle, even bluer than she originally thought. His smiled was charming, plus the slight crookedness of his teeth was endearing. He poured her tea, then his own. “Sugar?” 

“Ah, two please.” 

He carefully placed two sugar cubes with the tiny tongs looking even smaller in his large hands. His fingers were very long, which made Marianne wonder if he played an instrument. “Cream or milk?” 

“Milk please” 

He poured the milk glancing at her to see when she wanted him to stop. 

He stirred his tea after picking up the cup. “So, your name is Lady Marianne Summerfield. I have heard of your father. A military hero from when my father was king.” 

She picked up her own cup, sipping slowly. It was very good tea. “Yes. He thought this would be a good chance for me to, ah...well I don't know, meet someone.” 

He chuckled. “Not to meet the king?” 

Marianne smiled. “Well, what are the chances you would choose me out of all those women.” 

He made a face. “What are the chances I will pick any of them? More likely they will picked for me.” 

Marianne gave him a quizzical look. “Your majesty?” 

He set his cup down then waved his hand. “Please, call me Bog.” 

She snickered. She couldn't help it. “Bog? I thought your name was Brochan?” 

His face contorted, wrinkling his nose and setting his cup down. “It is, but I prefer Bog. It's a nickname. My father use to call me that.” He smiled softly at the mention of his father. 

“You miss him don't you?” 

Bog regarded her and for just a moment she could see the pain in his eyes of a young man having lost his father. “Aye. I do.” 

Marianne reached across the small table, placing her hand over his. He looked shocked but didn't pull his hand away. “I lost my mother, so I somewhat understand.” Bog laid his other hand over hers, it was warm and she could feel callouses, this was not a king unused to using his hands. “Thank you, Marianne. May I call you Marianne?” 

She grinned. “I would like that.” 

Over the course of their tea together, she learned that Bog liked horse riding, he knew how to spar, he was very intelligent and funny. He was very self-conscious for a king, he cared a great deal for his people, which was probably the only reason he was willing to go through all of this to find a wife. 

They were laughing at the ridiculousness of some of the latest fashions that they had each seen some of the ladies of the court wearing, when his secretary cleared his throat. 

“Sire, it is time for your walk with Lady Ella.” Bog frowned, turning to gaze at Marianne. She felt her heart constrict, but she smiled. “I think we are scheduled for a walk this evening.” 

Bog pressed his lips together clearly agitated. He looked at his secretary. “ I will be there shortly.” 

He stood, Marianne standing at the same time. He took her hand carefully in his and held it to his lips kissing her knuckles softly. “Until then.” 

He held her hand for a little while longer, gently stroking the underside of her fingers. The motion seemed absently done, as if he was not aware he was doing it, before letting his hand slip away from hers to follow his secretary out. 

Marianne stood there watching him go, her heart thudded hard against her ribs. She liked him. She actually liked the king. 

Evening dinner was again a large affair. Dawn had insisted that Marianne wear a dress she had brought in a soft blue that hung in soft drapery from the empire waist. Marianne did not care for the softer color, but Dawn insisted it made her dark eyes and hair stand out. 

Dawn informed her sister that, according to Sunny, after the ball which was to be held in three days time, all dinners with the king would be private affairs between him and each of the ladies here to seek his hand. Marianne leaned forward as her sister told her this news to look at Brochan—Bog. He had eaten little and was sipping his wine. He had changed since their tea into a more ornate dinner coat trimmed in gold, in a plush blue velvet with a matching vest that sported designs of vines and primroses. As if he sensed her, his blue eyes looked up meeting hers from down the table. Her cheeks crimsoned, smiling at him and gave him a little wave of her fingers which she immediately felt foolish doing, but Bog, looking to see if anyone was paying too much attention to him, waved with the fingers holding his goblet, a secret grin on his face before he was forced to turn his attention to the portly man sitting next to him. 

Marianne pressed her lips together to keep her laugh from bursting out. He had looked so silly when he waved, but it was endearing. 

She found herself hoping that dinner would move quickly so that her time with him would come sooner. Dawn elbowed her sister. “You alright?” 

Marianne blinked in surprise her fork halfway to her mouth. “Why?” 

Dawn pierced her sister with a far wiser look than her younger years normally allowed. “You like him, don't you?” 

Marianne stuffed her fork in her mouth chewing slowly, but she was helpless from keeping the red spreading along her cheeks. Dawn smirked, whispering, “You like the king.” 

* 

It was another hour after dinner had finished before Marianne was escorted to a long hall she had yet to enter in the castle. The ceiling was oddly angled with sections of wood crossing overhead making it looked as if the ceiling was rounded. The corners were painted with primroses of varying shades. There were tall windows that let in the moonlight. Ancient armor decorated some of the acloves on the wall opposite the windows. Torches lined the walls, giving the hall an eerie feel. Bog was examining one of the suits of armor. He had his hands behind his back. He had changed from his dinner jacket he had worn at the evening meal. He was in a much simpler frock coat of dark brown. In this light she could detect a soft auburn glow to his dark hair. He rocked on his heels slightly as he waited for her making her grin softly as the butler held the door open for her, then shut it softly behind her. Bog turned at the sound of the door clicking shut. His face transformed into the most beautiful smile when he saw her. 

“Ah, Lady Marianne.” 

She grinned blushing. “Just Marianne, remember?” 

He flushed. “Just Marianne. Ah, would you like to take a turn with me?” 

She stepped forward as he offered his arm, encircling his arm with hers laying the hand of her opposite arm on his sleeve. Bog pressed his lips together trying to keep his smile in check as they started down the hall. 

They walked in companionable silence stopping at the end of the hall to turn around. “Have you worn any of this armor?” Marianne asked as she looked at the very ornate one to her right. 

Bog made a face. “No, too restricting. I learned to fence, which I enjoy much more than the older sports of jousting.” 

Marianne's face lit up. “You fence? So do I!” 

Bog grinned. “Truly?! We shall have to practice with each other!” His accent came out a bit thicker in his clear excitement causing him to blush. “Well, if you wish that is. Most young ladies are not...” 

She stopped him, squeezing his arm. 

“I am not most young ladies.” 

Bog laughed at that. “No, you are not, Marianne. No you are not. You're different—that's what I like.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bog looked embarrassed clearing his throat, glancing anywhere but at her. Marianne pressed her lips together in a shy grin. 

By the time they reached the other end of the hall, the butler had returned to escort Marianne back to her rooms. Another young lady waiting her turn stood just outside the door. Bog sighed heavily motioning for a few more moments privacy. 

He took her hand in both of his. “Would you care to fence with me tomorrow in lieu of having brunch?” 

Marianne smiled brightly. “I would like that very much, Bog.” 

He nodded. “Tomorrow.” He kissed her knuckles, lingering a tad longer than was proper, his blue eyes locking with hers, before rapping on the door for the butler to return. 

** 

Marianne found her sleep that night filled with images of tall, blue-eyed kings with soft lips and long fingers. That morning as she sat in front of the mirror, Dawn chatting away, she found her thoughts wandering. “Marianne! Are you even listening to me?” 

Marianne jerked, her eyes shooting up to her sister. “Sorry, what?” 

“I was curious what you wanted to do today? We have practically hours until brunch. Sunny said he could take us into town if we wanted.” 

“No. Why don't you and Sunny go? I think I will just read, maybe go to the stables.” 

Dawn narrowed her eyes at her sister. “I don't know if I trust you not to make yourself a mess before it's time to see King Brochan.” 

“Bog.” 

“What?” Dawn looked at her sister in the mirror. 

“He prefers Bog.” 

Dawn quirked her brow. “Oh.” 

* 

Dawn had left in a coach with Sunny, leaving Marianne with a few hours to herself. She decided to ask if the castle had a library. One of the maids, a cheery little thing with the largest green eyes Marianne had ever seen named Lizzie offered to show her the way, neither lady aware that they were being followed. The library was gorgeous. Marianne stepped in and had to just stand there staring at the shelves upon shelves of books. She stepped in slowly and then stopped short when she saw Bog at one of the tables. He was alone, which was unusual. 

He sat in a large wing-backed chair, looking more relaxed than she had yet to see him. He had on a pair of rounded metal framed glasses, his long legs crossed, with a book settled on his raised thigh. He was dressed in dark grey, darker colors she was starting to notice were his preferred choice. There was little flourish to his outfit, no gold embroidery or fancy stitched vest; the only ornaments on him were cuff-links that looked like tiny silver primroses. Strands of his hair were loose, framing his forehead where it was clear he must have run his agile fingers through it. The glasses had slipped to the end of his long nose, but he was absorbed in reading quietly. She thought of approaching him, but she wasn't sure, he probably didn't have much time to himself, especially right now. She was about to say something when she was suddenly yanked from behind. 

Bog thought he heard something. He had asked for the guards to wait outside the library so he could have some peace. His blue eyes were sharp. He glanced up from his book, but there was no one there. 

Marianne was pulled into some of the shelves pushed up against some of the books to see Roland. He was grinning blithely in his smug handsome face. “Good day, gorgeous. I heard you were here.” 

Marianne snarled, shoving him back. “Roland, what are you doing here?” 

He let her push him away from her, keeping that insufferable grin on his face. “This is perfect, a second chance for us.” 

“What?” Marianne hissed, trying to step around him. 

Roland snagged her upper arm. “You're not really hoping to get picked by that cockroach, are you? I mean I can see the appeal in being queen, but do you really want to be married to something like that? I figured this would be a perfect chance for us...” 

Marianne looked so insulted for Bog that it took a great deal of effort for her not to hit Roland. 

“Do you really think it is wise for you to be insulting the king? Besides, you do not fool me at all. You are here for reasons that have nothing to do with me.” She sneered at Roland. That was when someone cleared their throat causing both Roland and Marianne to turn. King Brochan stood there watching them both. He still had his glasses on and was holding his book in one hand. His eyes narrowed. “Lord Roland, Lady Marianne.” 

Roland performed a quick bow; it was low enough, but there was something not quite respectful about it. Marianne curtsied. 

“Do you need something, Lord Roland?” Bog's voice was stern. It was clear he did not expect an answer. Roland glanced at Marianne before turning back to Bog. “If your majesty will excuse me, I have some business elsewhere.” 

Roland walked past him with another bow before quickly leaving the library. Bog watched him walk away, his blue eyes narrowed before turning back to Marianne. As soon as his gaze returned to her his expression softened. “I did not intrude on anything important did I?” 

She smiled, the relief in her face clear. “No, you did not.” 

Bog frowned. “I have seen Lord Roland about, he seems quite popular with the ladies of the court. Is he a friend of yours?” Bog's voice was hesitant as he asked, his blues eyes regarded her over the top of his metal framed glasses. 

She sighed. “We were engaged once.” 

Bog's face fell. “Oh.” 

“I broke it off with him when I realized he—well, he didn't want me to be me. He was unfaithful to me, too.” Marianne nervously brushed her hands down her dress, as if trying to wipe the memories away. She glanced back up at Bog. He smiled at her, but he looked as if he were unsure what to say or do next. Marianne put her hands behind her back smiling, “So, ah, what are you reading?” 

He blushed glancing at the spine of the book in his hands. “Ah, it's a book of poetry” 

She gave the king a lopsided smile. “Poetry?” 

He looked discomforted as he muttered. “Love poetry. My mother thought it...” 

She reached out taking the book from him, turning it over. It was clear it was a much loved volume. The spine had that comfortable crease of having been opened a great deal. She looked up at him through her lashes after she opened the book to see Brochan Kingston written in the book. “It's yours, isn't is?” 

Bog turned away, clearly ruffled. “Perhaps.” 

She handed the book back to him. “Would you read me your favorite?” 

Bog traced the book with his eyes before holding out his hand to her. She placed her hand within his allowing him to lead her back to where he had been sitting earlier. He led her to the chair where he had been scant moments before, then pulled a stool out that sat neglected under a pile of books for himself. He sat holding the book of poetry, opening it and within moments found a poem. As quickly as he found the poem, it was clear to Marianne it was one he knew well. 

He pushed his glasses up his nose before he began, his eyes darted over to her then back to the book. His voice was clear though the lithe wove through the words. “She walks in Beauty like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that is best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and in her eyes: Thus mellow' d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies...” He swallowed flushing, “Ah, there is more. It is by Lord Byron, but...” He looked quite flustered. 

“You read so beautifully.” Marianne could not keep the admiration from her voice. Bog's eyes seem startled by the compliment. It was clear to her that even though he was king, the man was not accustomed to personal compliments. 

They both leaned toward each other. She was so close she could feel the heat of him, smell his scent, a mix of spices and vanilla. Her brown eyes met his, the lens of the glasses distorted the bottom half of his eyes. He had just started to reach out with two graceful fingers toward her jaw, when they both heard a door open then the distinct, smart tap of shoes on the floor. “Your majesty?” 

Bog leaned back from her and stood up, holding his book to his chest like a shield. His secretary stepped into view. “I am sorry sire, but your turn with Lady Amelia is already ten past.” 

Bog nodded. “Aye. Aye, I'll be there.” 

The man bowed. “I have your coat waiting sire.” 

Bog turned back to Marianne, a genuine smile of pleasure on his face. “Brunch still?” 

She grinned impishly. “Yes.”


	2. To Pick an Opponant

Marianne wore a simpler dress this time, one of deep burgundy over a soft white linen gown, parted in the front. The sleeves were shorter allowing her arms freer movement while her hair was held back with silver combs. The servant came for her when it was time for brunch. She hated to admit it, but she had been nervously waiting nearly jumping a foot when the knock on the door came. She was led through the castle—down the hall where she had walked with Bog just last night—through another hall that was hung with thick tapestries of unicorn hunts and fairy princesses. 

Finally they are arrived in a large open room with exposed wooded beams that was sparsely decorated, though weapons lined the walls. As she walked past, she could see that some of the weapons were well worn; these were not display pieces. There were windows that ran from floor to ceiling to let in the outside light framed with long thick curtains of rust brown that were pulled back, tied with heavy ropes. The servant left her at one end of the room near a plain wooden door. He bowed and headed out the way he had come. Within seconds, Bog stepped out from the plain door carrying two practice foils. He grinned when he saw her. He was wearing all white, no vest or frock coat, the frill collars gone, the ties of the shirt open, exposing the hollow of his neck, the hint of masculine hair of his chest peaking. Her cheeks fairly burned as her eyes went straight to the opening of his shirt, then back up to his blue eyes. 

He smiled. “I am glad yer here.” He handed a foil to her. “I hope this is acceptable?” 

She hefted the weapon, trying it in her hand, stabbing out with it in a graceful lunge. Bog stepped back doing the same, stretching his arms and legs. She found herself distracted by him—he was so lean and tall that his movements were very graceful. The man looked for all the world like a dancer. He turned to gaze at her, a wonderful relaxed smile on his face. Marianne found herself smirking in return holding her blade up. They saluted and began. 

Bog was immediately impressed with Marianne's ability. Despite the dress which he thought might put her at a disadvantage, she moved quickly. He grinned, enjoying himself more than he had in a very long time as they danced around, each accomplishing lunges, attacks, feints, remise, and flicks. At one point, Bog became distracted as she pulled her dress up a bit too much and he saw her stocking covered leg as she lunged. For a split second he glimpsed her garter ribbon. He stumbled back, just barely avoiding her blade. They danced up and down the room, laughing and smiling at each other. Both forgot about the time, that he was a king and she a lady, completely adsorbed in their match. She moved in close, but Bog shifted suddenly causing her to lose her footing.

Marianne stumbled slightly. The next thing she knew she was pressed up against his chest looking up into the most startling pair of gentle blue eyes. His arm automatically went around her, holding her against him. They stayed in that position, staring at each other. Bog's mouth was slightly open, seeming to invite her eyes to trace the contours of his lips. He could not tear his eyes away from her brown ones, warm and delicious. He wanted to fall into them. When he did move his eyes, it was to glance down at her beautiful bow mouth, the delicate gloss on her bottom lip where she had licked it with her tongue. She was panting slightly. Marianne was unaware of having licked her lips, but Bog was fully aware of it, eyes widening as he stared. With a sudden breath he released her, stepping back and smiling nervously. 

Marianne found Bog even more endearing when all his defenses were down. As for Bog, he realized with a shock that he was becoming what his mother would have called smitten. They continued their match after a heartbeat. She dodged and feinted, matching Bog's maneuvers until they both lunged. They hit each other at the same moment, the tips of their blades pressing each others shoulders. They were both panting by the time they stopped. 

Bog fairly beamed. He had never had anyone to spar with except trainers, never anyone he would call a friend. As he gazed at Marianne, the thought that maybe she could be his friend, maybe more...he quickly pushed it down. No point in hoping for something that could never be, but he was still going to enjoy the time they had. He could not help the glimmer of hope that settled in his chest, however. Just because he liked her did not mean she would return his feelings. He would rather be trapped in a loveless marriage than a one-sided one. Furthermore, he would never condemn her to a marriage she did not want. Bog shook the thoughts away. 

“I will call for some sherbet!” 

She was surprised. “I have never had sherbet.” 

Bog grinned like a little boy. “Then this will be a treat! It is made with crushed fruit and flowers.” 

He stepped out, taking their weapons with him, where a guard and butler had been waiting the whole of their sparring. Within moments a table and two chairs were brought into the sparring area. Bog smiled, pulling her seat out for her as a servant came in carrying a silver platter on which were two cut crystal petaled serving bowls looking like small opened flowers, each with something dark pink inside along with simple long handled silver spoons. 

A crystal bowl was placed in front of each of them. Marianne lifted her brow quizzically looking at it. The dark pink sherbet was decorated with crystallized deep purple primroses. Bog grinned showing his crooked teeth in a genuine smile of good humor. “This is made from strawberries and the primroses are edible. They come from my greenhouse.” 

Marianne looked surprised. “You grow primroses?” 

He flushed. “I don't know if you noticed—it is the family flower, part of our crest, Amor gignit amorem, love creates love. My father, my Da, said that our duty as kings or queens was to love our people. The primrose represents that. Also, as my mother likes to point out, fairies love the flower and bless those that cherish them too.” 

Marianne smiled softly as she picked up her spoon. “Do you believe in fairies?” 

Bog picked up his own spoon with a shrug. “I don't know. Old stories say out family is descended from Titania and Oberon, but they are just stories.” 

Marianne scooped a small portion of the strawberry sherbet along with a sugared primrose on to her spoon. She gazed across the table at Bog, his enchanting blues eyes on her as she whispered. “I don't know, Bog. I might believe you are fairy born.” Bog blushed glancing down with a gentle laugh. 

* 

Marianne did not see him the rest of the day, his time being divided between other potential brides and ruling of the kingdom. Dawn was still gone, probably buying who knew what! Marianne cringed a little thinking that there would probably be boxes galore to help her sister sort through. Marianne also remembered that Dawn had wanted some new feathers and ribbons for the balls, which caused Marianne to groan internally. But knowing Dawn was happily spending the day with Sunny made her smile. The two young lovebirds, unaware of their love, were sweet. 

She changed into a walking dress. Usually at home she would not have bothered but she didn't want to be caught by Dawn and lectured. She was wearing a muslin dress of deep amber that matched her eyes. 

She decided to look about on her own for the greenhouse that Bog had mentioned. She discovered that the gardens of the castle were extensive. She had just rounded a corner that took her to one of the farthest edges of the rose gardens when she saw Bog walking, another young woman on his arm. This lady seemed a bit more excited by being with the king and was chatting at a speed that would put Dawn to shame. 

Marianne stepped back, watching from around a large statue, her eyes glued to Bog. He smiled, but he seemed to be only half participating in the conversation. She found herself grinning, her cheeks felt like they were burning but she was happy he did not seem interested in this other woman. They moved on and she was able to start off down the crushed stone path. She had not gone far when she heard a familiar voice. “Well there you are, Buttercup. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you alone.” 

Marianne's shoulders drooped as she turned around to see Roland. 

“Roland, go away.” 

He moved to block her path. He was dressed in a dark green frock coat with a matching velvet waist coat done the gold silk embroidery of leaves and blades. His blonde hair practically glowed in the sunlight as he stood there smiling, every inch the prince charming. For a moment she remembered when seeing him had made her heart race, until she learned what kind of man he was, only interested in himself. To marry her would have given him access to her father's lands which bordered his family's own and he could have used her father's past military career to further his own fortunes, his only real interest being in what her name would bring him. 

She crossed her arms over her chest glaring at him. “I am sure you can find another woman to harass, Roland. The castle is crawling with them.” 

Roland smiled. “Well, true, but none of them are you Marianne.” 

Her look soured even more. “I am on to you, Roland. I know your tricks and I am falling for none of them!” 

She turned to walk away, but he snagged her hand. “Come on, Buttercup, please. It was a mistake—a momentary lapse in judgment.” 

Marianne yanked her hand from his grip. “Roland. I am not interested. I am sure you can find any number of gullible young women to occupy your time.” With that, Marianne turned quickly wishing she had a blade with her as she moved off deeper into the garden, determined to lose him. Roland did not pursue, letting her go for the time being. That was when Roland heard the soft tinkle of laughter behind him. He turned to see Victoria standing there looking like a Grecian goddess in her white muslin dress, her honey brown hair piled upon her head in curls. They had a fling one summer not long after he was engaged to Marianne. Not the woman he was caught with, but one of his many. He frowned. “I wouldn't laugh, Victoria. I seriously doubt you will be chosen by his majesty. I saw you playing crochet with him...he did not seem very interested in your overt hints.” 

Victoria sniffed. “If I could get him in my bed I would most definitely be queen, but he seems a bit, him, awkward as well as terribly ugly. I think the king might actually be a virgin! How pathetic. Unlike someone I still desire.” He shrugged. “Well I want her lands for one. They are rich,” he explained with a sly grin. “Her damn father even has a vineyard. My family could use the influx of wealth.” 

She regarded him with a smirk. “Is that all?” 

He laughed putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Well, I never did bed her. Hurts a man's pride and no man likes to have his manhood drawn into question.” 

“Ah, I figured it was more than simply money.” 

Roland pulled Lady Victoria into a darker part of the garden. “So you are here to snag yourself a queen-ship, Vicki?” 

She giggled as he started to nibble on her neck. “Yes, I am. I have always thought I would look good with a crown.” 

Roland pulled her sleeve away from her shoulder biting softly. “Mmm...maybe there is a way we can help each other?” 

She ran her fingers through his thick blonde hair. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours?” 

Hands started to explore under her filmy dress, both of the laughing. 

* 

After another twenty minutes or so of searching, Marianne's frustration grew, but then she finally found the greenhouse. The greenhouse was made of huge glass walls setting like a jewel in the garden. She pushed on the door slowly to see if it was unlocked and then grinned as she slipped in. She turned closing the door only to stop short, her mouth dropping open in awe. The greenhouse was huge.Her eyes flowed upward to see the pointed roof covered in flowering vines of deep pink flowers that reached to the heavens above her. 

She stood in shock, her lips parted in the most unladylike fashion as she slowly turned in a circle. The house was filled with the beautiful sounds of birds, little darts of color, tiny tinkling music of birdsong filled the air. At the same moment she saw the butterflies. It was like watching jewels and flowers gliding on the air around her. 

There were lush green plants, vines dripping down from the ceiling, delicate orchids and hothouse roses of infinite color, but what really took her breath away were the primroses. The primroses filled every other corner of the greenhouse, every color, every size. There was so much color it was almost blinding. She started to walk down the rows of flowers watching the butterflies move softly and quietly through the air, dancing around her. Butterflies landed on her hair and shoulders; it was like walking into a fairy land. She was so enchanted that at first she didn't hear the rattling of a door. That was when she noticed there was another door hidden behind some vines covered in bursting pink flowers. Someone was coming in! 

Marianne cursed, looking for a place to hide, thinking perhaps Roland had found her again. She got down on her knees scooting under a table covered with gardening tools. Once hidden, she was startled to see that it was actually Bog entering the greenhouse. 

He leaned his back against the door closing his eyes. He looked tired and a little pale. He took a deep breath before he slipped out of his frock coat, tossing it onto one of the tool tables. She covered her mouth to stifle her laugh thinking his wardrobe valet would be very upset with the king being so careless. He leaned against the door again in just his shirt and vest. He took a few more calming breaths, seemed to relax a little more before he opened his eyes slowly. He stepped away from the door, putting his hands behind his back, a gesture she has seen him do a couple times now, a gesture of nervous energy. 

He started walking slowly, examining the flowers as he moved, his features easing. Stroking the petals with long slender fingers, butterflies landing in his hair, he moved through the greenhouse stopping when he came to a table with other gardening tools near to her hiding place. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, selecting a tool before crouching down where she lost sight of him. When he stood back up she could see smudges of dirt on his hands, but most importantly he was smiling. 

Marianne wasn't sure what to do. She felt like a voyeur watching him in his private moment. He looked so at ease, so gentle, the scowl that had been on his face when he first entered had softened. She didn't want to surprise him in his moment alone—this would be the second time she caught him in a private moment! But, she also wanted to talk to him. 

She was trying to decide what to do, crouched down there getting her dress dirty, looking down at her dress thinking that Dawn was going to kill her when a shadow fell over her. She glanced up with wide eyes to see Bog standing there looking down at her, his hands behind his back, his sleeves still rolled up. He grinned at her. “Hiding?” She started to say something, but Bog dropped down and shimmied under the table, albeit awkwardly because he was so much taller than her. He scuffed his pants as he hid with her. “Are you hiding from me or someone else?” 

She stared at him, crouched down with her and then she started to giggle, her cheeks reddening. “I thought it might be someone else and when I saw it was you, I didn't want to disturb you.” 

Bog chuckled. “I don't think you would ever disturb me, Marianne.” She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, blushing deeply. They were both quiet, watching the butterflies. She was very aware of him next to her. He smelled good, too. She couldn't place what he smelled of, but he made her want to put her nose against his neck, to breathe in his scent against his warm flesh. She covered her nervousness and heated desire with speaking. 

“There are so many of them,” she whispered softly and then chuckled. “I don't know why I am whispering.” Bog laughed gently. “My grandmother loved butterflies, so my grandfather bred them here for her.” Marianne smiled softly. “That's so sweet.” 

Bog nodded quietly as he held out a hand. A butterfly with the deepest purple wings she had ever seen landed delicately on his fingers. Its wings were trimmed in black. The wings moved quite slowly as if the butterfly that sat on his finger were showing off. “This one is called noble devotion.” His mouth creased softly and then he lifted his hand encouraging it to fly away. 

He turned regarding her. They were so close, crouched there. His eyes were so blue. She knew she was staring into his eyes. They were drawn to each other, leaning closer, her eyes trapped by his. There was a knock at the door and it opened carefully. “Sire? Your mother is here she wishes to speak with you.” 

Bog closed his eyes, muttering. “This is becoming annoying.” 

He moved out from under the table standing, putting his hand out to her. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet at the moment his mother swept into the room dressed in a shade of red that clashed with her auburn hair and was slightly too heavy for the warm weather. 

“Bog, dear, I wanted to talk to you about the first of the balls we are having. Your aunt will be here tonight and she had said something about a masquerade...” 

Griselda stopped short when she saw her son and Lady Marianne. Her lips and eyebrows quirked up at the same time. “Am I disturbing you?” 

Bog gave his mother an annoyed look, but returned his gaze to Marianne. He looked so embarrassed it was almost painful. “I look forward to seeing you this evening, Lady Marianne.” He started to take her hand, noticing that his fingers were slightly dirty. He started to pull his fingers back, but then changed his mind at the last moment as he took her hand tenderly, her fingers laid across his long graceful digits. He looked into her eyes, causing Marianne's heart to speed up. “I believe tomorrow there is to be a ride. Not all the ladies are going. Will you be?” He looked so earnest while at the same time trying to remain kingly. 

“Yes, I will, your majesty.” 

Bog smiled softly. “Then I shall look forward to it.” His eyes never left hers as he lifted her hand to his mouth. He brushed his lips along her knuckles, blue eyes like a clear summer day never leaving her warm brown ones. She could feel the warmth of his breath caress her skin, the hairs on the back of her hand tickled. He slowly pressed his lips to her knuckles. His lips were silky soft, warm against her skin. He opened his mouth just slightly as he pulled his lips away, his index finger caressed her palm sending liquid heat racing down through her arm into her stomach. She found herself staring. He beamed, just a hint of crooked teeth. Then he gently released her hand, strolling over to pick up his coat. He glanced toward the servant that had preceded his mother. “Please escort Lady Marianne wherever she wishes to go.” 

He slipped on his coat with one more look at her giving her a tender smile. Then he took his mother's arm leading her out. 

Once outside the greenhouse, Griselda nearly pounced on her son. “Lady Marianne?? “ 

Bog flushed. “Yes, she is one of the young ladies here for the position of queen.” 

Griselda smiled. “Oh, I think she might be winning.” 

Bog tried not to grin, but he could not seem to help himself as they made their way back inside to discuss the plans for the upcoming balls. 

* 

The next morning Dawn fussed over her sister. Marianne was dressed in a dark blue riding habit, the skirt stopping just before her ankles. She had on her black riding boots with dark hose underneath. Her jacket was cut close, in a trim masculine military fashion that suited Marianne's slim figure. Dawn made sure the brass buttons shown and her sister's hair was done up in thick curls, a long ringlet of hair running down her back underneath the ladies' fashionable tricorn hat. Dawn made her turn around with Marianne rolling her eyes, but she could not keep the smile off her face. Not only did she like horseback riding, she was going to see the king again. Granted, they would not be alone, but perhaps the fates would smile on her. 

She had found herself dreaming about him again, warm tender lips not just kissing her knuckles, but also her neck. 

Dawn grinned brightly. “You look so pretty, Marianne! You have just blossomed in the few days we have been here! Your cheeks are rosy all the time.” 

Marianne rolled her eye again with a smirk deciding it was best not to comment. Dawn kissed her cheek. “Be careful, have fun and I hope you and King Bog get some time alone together.” Dawn winked, making Marianne flush a deep crimson. 

* 

A servant arrived to escort Marianne down to the stables. The area around the stables was a riot of colors from all the other young women in their riding habits with Marianne's standing out as one of the most conservative, but in many ways she stood out as the most lovely. Marianne looked around hoping to catch a glimpse of Bog when her nose wrinkled at the sight of Roland. He grinned, giving her a jolly wave, which she pointedly ignored when a young man came up to her. He was tall, robust, with large eyes, but an extremely friendly face. “Are you Lady Marianne?” 

She turned and nodded. “Yes?” 

He grinned showing off teeth that had a few blank spots. “His majesty picked out a horse especially for your ladyship. If you will follow me.” His smile was contagious as he led her around to the side stables. “May I ask your name?” Marianne smiled at him and he blushed. 

“Peter, but my friends call me Pare.” 

“What does his highness call you?” 

Pare grinned. “He calls me Pare.” 

Marianne's face brightened. “Is that because his majesty is your friend or because he is king?” 

Pare whispered. “He's my friend, but don't let anyone know, we use to play together when we were children. My father worked for his father as the head of his majesty's stables.” 

She could not help but smile thinking of Bog as a boy, but then her breath was taken away. The horse that Pare showed her was practically vibrating with energy as he pranced in his stable. He was gorgeous. The horse was white and light grey with beautiful intelligent eyes. Marianne stepped closer. The horse regarded her with a huff of air. Pare grinned. “His name is Imp because he is a bit mischievous, likes to get loose and eat the flowers, especially the red roses. He is an Arabian, but he is a good horse. Likes to run a bit too much and shows off, but he has a good heart.” Pare reached out and rubbed his nose. Imp snorted, but leaned into the attention. 

“Bog...” She cleared her throat. “I mean, King Brochan picked him special for me?” 

Pare grinned impishly. “Yes, he did, my lady. He also said if you don't ride side saddle, to ride how you feel comfortable.” 

Marianne could not help but stare. She didn't like to ride side saddle and when she was home she refused to, but to have Bog figure that out about her, well, it made a part of her heart hammer a little harder. 

“Thank you Pare.” 

The groom led Imp out, then went about finishing saddling him. The saddle was not overly decorated but she could see it was a royal saddle, the primroses carved in the silver decoration. Pare bowed to her helping her up, handing her a crop that matched the saddle with carved primroses in the wood. “Good riding, my lady.” Pare smiled and bowed stepping back. 

Imp excitedly pranced, whipping his beautiful snow white tail and graceful head. She held the reins carefully, letting him move his head around a few times, but her grip remained firm, reminding the horse who was in control. She guided Imp around and over to where the others were gathering. As she came forward, she saw Bog on his beautiful horse. The animal was tall and well muscled and Marianne felt as if the sunlight highlighted him just for her. 

The king was clad in white pants, tall black boots, a deep burgundy hunting coat cut to perfection to conform to his slim figure, and top hat. He turned when she came around the corner. He smiled when he saw her, causing Marianne's heartbeat to increase. His eyes were nearly electric blue and his smile was very...sensual. 

Lady Victoria was nearby, sitting side saddle in an elaborate riding outfit of mauve, cut indecently and ridiculously low in the front. She sneered as she watched the king move his horse closer to Lady Marianne's. Roland came up beside her, chuckling. “Ah, I see innocence is winning over experience.” She narrowed her eyes at Roland. “Oh, do shut up, Roland.” 

Roland laughed with a shrug, but Victoria glared at Marianne's back. 

* 

The group set off with some of the ladies either lagging behind (inexperienced riders) while others dashed ahead, not genuinely interested in the “ugly” king. A few surrounded Bog while he rode, vying for his attention, but he managed to keep Marianne beside him. Victoria maneuvered her way with a few strategically placed whips of her crop to be on Bog's other side. Victoria was smarting from the lack of attention. She accustomed to men throwing themselves at her feet, but the king seemed to notice her only in passing. Roland lingered back talking to some of the much younger ladies, whom she could hear the giggling and flirting behind her. 

* 

Bog leaned toward Marianne. “So how do you like Imp?” 

She smiled. “Oh, he is beautiful.” 

Bog grinned, his cheeks flushing showing just a hint of crooked teeth. “I thought he seemed perfect for you. Spirited, different than the other horses. Beautiful...” He let the word drop as if he did not mean to say it. 

Marianne blushed as well. “What is your horse's name?” 

Bog smiled patting the dark brown horse's neck affectionately. “His name is Umber. I named him when I was young. He has been one of my best friends. He is a Dutch Warmblood. He has beautiful lines.” Bog's smile widened. “You should see him jump.” 

She watched Bog's face as he talked. He was relaxed and animated, his love for his animals clear. He straightened up about to say something when suddenly Imp suddenly threw his head back. He suddenly took a few quick steps backwards, a couple of hops, his feet kicking out as he reared, then dropping and bucking to get Marianne off. She cried out holding on. Bog was barely able to control his horse as Imp thrashed about. Marianne was trying to calm the horse down, but then Imp took off at a run. There were screams and shouts as he charged into the horses ahead, speeding off into the woods. Bog yelled, pushing Umber to give chase. Guards took off after their king who was not thinking at all about his own safety as he gave chase. 

Victoria sneered. Maybe the little witch would fall off and break her neck. 

* 

Marianne struggled with Imp. Whatever had spooked or hurt him put him into a frenzy. She was struggling to get him back under control, not wanting him to hurt himself or for her to accidentally hurt him. She pulled back when Imp reared again, but this time he threw her. She went head over heels over the horse's head slamming into the ground hard enough that she blacked out for a second or two. Imp charged over her, a hoof slamming against her ankle and then Imp was gone. She cried out after the initial shock of the hoof hitting her, but then she lay there trying to catch the breath that had been knocked from her lungs, the pain of her ankle registering, but still muted somewhat by the shock of the fall and her lack of breath. She heard horses' hooves, vaguely thinking she was glad someone found her. Within seconds Bog was hoovering over her. “Marianne! Oh, Marianne!” 

He ran his hands over her quickly but gently, opening her coat to check her ribs, press on her stomach carefully before moving her skirts to check her legs. When he touched her ankle, she gasped in pain. Bog worked quickly to tenderly remove her boot. “Nothing seems broken...” he murmured as if to himself. He touched the back of her head gingerly, his fingertips coming back with a little bit of blood on them. He yelled, “Get the doctor quickly, now!” He looked back down at her, his brow creased with concern. “I think it's just a bad bump on the head and a sprained ankle.” Bog lifted her hand, holding it tightly in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, the worry in his blue eyes clear. Marianne smiled softly murmuring, “Oh Bog, you're so handsome...” Then she lost consciousness. 

* 

When Marianne came to, she was dressed in one of her nightgowns lying on her bed with her ankle resting on a pillow. She could hear voices, one of which was definitely Bog's. She tried to sit up, but her head ached horribly and every part of her body hurt. After a few more moments, the door opened a crack. Marianne looked over, surprised to see Bog peeking in at her. She smiled when she saw him. Bog came in closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?” 

She grinned sheepishly. “Like I was thrown from a horse. Is Imp alright?” 

Bog's smile was gentle. “Yes, he is fine.” 

“My physician said that you should stay off your ankle and rest at least until tomorrow. Is there anything more I can do for you?” He reached out taking her hand, holding it between his. He was about to say something else when there was a discreet knock at the door, which opened to reveal Marianne's clearly worried sister. Bog stood, squeezing her hand tightly. “I will have your dinner brought here. May I come to check on you later?” 

“Thank you, yes.” He didn't move for a moment, holding her hand staring down at her as if he wanted to do something or say something else, but instead he stood, gently releasing her hand. He smiled at Dawn, bowing his head. She dipped a curtsy as he walked past her. Then Dawn hurried over to her sister. “Oh, Marianne!!” She sat on her sister's bed and carefully embraced her. “Oh, when they brought you in I was so scared!!!” Dawn started to cry softly. 

Marianne hugged her back. “I'm fine, really.” 

* 

Roland grabbed Victoria, pulling her off into an alcove away from prying eyes and ears. He hissed. “I saw what you did to that horse. It doesn't help my cause if you kill her before I marry her.” 

Victoria sneered. “Like you couldn't get the other one.” 

Roland made a face full of distaste. “Dawn is a child.” 

“Oh, you have morals?” Victoria chuckled. 

Roland narrowed his eyes. “Don't hurt her again, Victoria if you want our little alliance to work.” 

She sighed dramatically. “I can agree to no 'killing or maiming,' but not to no hurting.” 

Roland sighed pulling her against him. “Fine.” 

* 

That evening Bog kept his word. Dinner was brought to her on fine silver and china. She and Dawn ate together with Sunny arriving with a large tray carrying samples of all the desserts from the larger dinner. They had eaten together, laughing. Sunny and Dawn were adorable as Dawn would force him to try bites of everything. Sunny would gaze at Dawn, his looks full of longing that Dawn simply missed. The three of them laughed and talked until Marianne felt exhausted. Dawn made her take a nap even though Marianne had fussed about wanting to see if Bog came or not. 

A great deal later he arrived, not wanting to disturb her if she was asleep, but the nap her sister insisted on allowed her to be up when he arrived. She was leaning against a pile of pillows in a fresh night dress, sheets pulled up, covered in a cotton blanket embroidered with tiny primroses of palest pink, sipping tea, her freshly brushed hair down around her shoulders. Bog, with Dawn's permission, entered her room. Dawn had been shocked when the king had asked if she would allow him see her sister at this late hour. 

“How are you feeling?” Bog pulled a chair in the room closer to her bed. There was candlelight only, but his eyes seemed to glow to her. She also noticed that he had a book with him. 

“Much better. The doctor was here and gave me some medicine for my headache. He said if I was careful, he would let me walk a little tomorrow.” She reached over to set her tea down on the table near her bed, but Bog reached for it. His fingers gently caressed her hand as he took the cup from her. 

Bog looked pleased. “Would you allow me to take you through the gardens tomorrow after tea?” 

Marianne pressed her lips together trying not to smile too much as she replied. “I would enjoy that.” 

He was able to stay another hour, just reading poetry to her until she fell asleep. She was unaware of his caress along her jaw before he left her for the night.


	3. To Pick a Heart

Bog ate breakfast alone in his rooms. His bedroom was not as ornate as other rooms in the castle, though it was not austere either. His bed was quite large with a canopy carved from a single piece of hard wood. It had been his great grandfather's, but now it was Bog's. He had replaced the more embroidered curtains of royal purple with plain midnight blue that matched the dark wood better. The room itself was paneled in rich wood (though not as dark as the bed) with paintings, tapestries and with many, many bookshelves stuffed full of his private books. These books were his treasures collected since he was a youth. 

He sat at a small table lit by the early morning light that spilled into the room from one window where the curtain had been pulled aside. The silver was set out with tea, eggs, bacon and toast. Breakfast was one of the few meals he was permitted to eat alone. He had to snort, a king who needed permission to eat alone. He argued long and hard with his mother and advisers, but damn it all, a man needed some time to himself, especially in his own bedchamber! He was still in his night shirt, a robe of deep blue, the lapels of which were decorated with gold primroses. He was wearing his glasses, his favorite book of poetry on the table next to his food, some of the pages dogeared to poems he thought Marianne might enjoy. 

He picked up his tea, taking a sip and trying to relax, though if he was honest with himself, having Lady Marianne sitting across from him would be pleasant. For a moment his imagination took hold and he pictured her lips, wearing a nightgown, her cheeks flushed...he shook his head, glaring at nothing but himself and his thoughts. He sighed, she seemed to like him, but...he rubbed the back of his neck staring at his breakfast. He was the loveless, ugly king—how could such a beauty as Lady Marianne love him? Perhaps he would be better off picking a woman who simply wanted the position of queen, who would not break his heart because she would not care for him at all. No illusions of happiness, only running the kingdom and making sure its future was secure. Bog set his cup of tea down a little too hard, shattering the plate underneath. 

* 

Marianne sat in front of the mirror while Dawn moved about putting silk flowers in her hair. Marianne's hair was delicately curled, soft and as Dawn insisted, romantic. Dawn had selected a soft white cotton dress for her to wear today with shawl of lavender. She wore soft slippers and her ankle was wrapped. “There—you look beautiful!” Dawn grinned at her in the mirror. Marianne blushed. “Thank you.” 

“So, tea is being served outside in the gardens today and then King Brochan is going to take you for a walk? You realize he is deviating from the schedule right?” Dawn grinned like a cat. Marianne took a swat at her, but Dawn had years of avoiding her sister's playful smacks and easily dodged, especially since Marianne was temporarily disabled. 

“How is your head?” 

Marianne sighed. “Much better. The royal physician had me drink something awful with breakfast, but it worked wonders.” 

Dawn hugged her sister from behind, squeezing her shoulders softly. “Be more careful, alright?” 

Marianne patted her sister's hands. “I will. I promise.” 

* 

The two young women were led out to another section of the vast gardens where tables and chairs had been set out for tea while other guests milling about waiting for tea to begin. The king had yet to make an appearance as the two young ladies were led to a table. No sooner than they had been seated than Roland showed up, pulling a chair up to their table. “Hello ladies!” 

Marianne scowled and even the normally joyous Dawn frowned. “Roland, what are you doing here?” 

He grinned at Dawn. “I am here to try to win back my heart.” He took Marianne's hand, kissing it. She yanked her hand back with an actual snarl. 

Victoria was nearby keeping an eye out for King Brochan. She wanted not only to be the first to greet him, but if their little plan this afternoon worked maybe she would finally start making some headway in her seduction. Roland was keeping one eye on Victoria as he tried to keep himself at Marianne's table. Victoria saw the king coming and made a hand motion. Just as Bog came with his entourage around to the tea grounds, Roland grabbed Marianne's shoulders pulling her into a kiss. 

Bog was immediately scanning the area for Marianne. He was dressed for tea in a simple dark grey waistcoat and frock coat. He stopped at the edge of the gardens, his blue eyes intent as he looked for warm dark hair, his eyes finding her just in time to see the kiss. Bog went very still; it was as if he stopped breathing for a moment. He startled his group when he stopped moving, going deathly still, all the color draining from his face. Then he abruptly turned around, leaving the area to the shock of everyone. Victoria smiled a slow wicked smile. There, one opponent down. 

* 

Dawn squeaked in surprise when Roland grabbed Marianne, pressing his lips against hers. She didn't see Bog's quick retreat and Bog did not get to see Marianne slap Roland across the face. “Don't you dare touch me again!” She stood up quickly, hitting the table hard enough that she rattled the dishes and became dizzy. Dawn hurried over, grabbing her sister and glaring at Roland. “Come on, let's go back to our room.” 

Everyone watched as the two women left. Victoria was smiling when Roland glanced over at her rubbing his face. 

* 

Griselda had seen both incidents her heart sinking as she stood. “Everyone, please continue with your tea.” Plum was sitting with her, a sight in bright baby blue. “I will be right back.” 

Plum smiled. “Don't worry. I will keep everyone in order.” As Griselda hurried after her son, she heard her sister calling for some violinists. 

Griselda went in search of her son. She knew exactly where Bog would go when he was upset. She made her way to the greenhouse, where there were several guards around it preventing entry. Griselda glared when they tried to stop her. The guards looked at one another before silently (and prudently) moving out of the way. She stepped in to see her son. He had stripped off his coat and vest, standing unmoving, his sleeves rolled up, but he had done nothing yet. She breathed a sigh of relief for a moment remembering when he had destroyed the primroses, ripping them to shreds and killing every last flower. She was quiet watching him.

He didn't turn; he just stood there unmoving. His mother wanted to go to him and wrap her arms around him. This whole thing, the forced marriage, looking for a bride, all of it, was so hard on him, harder than anyone would ever guess. He was king, a wonderful king, but as a man he did not see himself as worthy of anyone. For him to have even begun to feel something for someone, to open himself up at all was truly a miracle. She sighed to herself, damn it. He was going to close himself off again if she didn't find a way to fix this and soon. 

“Bog?” 

“Not now, mother. Please.” He didn't turn around, but she could tell by the shift of his shoulders that he was hurt. 

She started to say that it wasn't what he thought when he turned around his blue eyes flashed. “Mother, please go.” 

She sighed, she would simply have to wait until he was calmer, there was no use talking to him like this. 

Bog turned his back on his mother struggling to control himself. He was a mix of crushing defeat, anger, heartbroken pain. He had promised himself he would not give his heart again. Promised! Now he had broken that promise to himself and look what had happened. Of course she would want her fiance back! Look at him. Sir Roland was every young woman's dream of a prince, of what a king should look like, not him. A tall, gangly ugly cockroach on the throne was not what any woman wanted. He sighed and then pressed his lips together into a thin line. He would not be a fool again. His long fingers slowly balled up into tight fists. 

* 

Marianne yanked her slippers off and threw them across her bedroom ignoring the pain in her ankle. They had returned to their room half an hour ago. Marianne had been in a rage. It had taken the whole half hour for Dawn to calm her sister enough to get her to their rooms before insisting she needed to rest. 

She could not believe Roland! And she had taken off and missed seeing Bog. She ran her hands down her face, fighting back tears of anger and frustration when there was a soft knock on her door. “Yes?” 

Dawn opened the door sticking her head in. “There's a message, from the queen mother!” 

Marianne frowned as Dawn came in holding an envelope. She took the envelope from her sister. “How do you know it's from the queen mother?” 

Dawn's light blue eyes were huge. “The maid who brought it said it was from her!” 

Marianne paled as she opened it. Inside, in a tight hand-written script, the queen mother invited Marianne to take brunch with her in her private rooms. She stared at her 

Dawn. “She wants to have brunch with me.” 

Her sister grinned. “That's good, right?” 

Marianne frowned slowly, unsure how to respond or what to think. 

* 

Dawn dressed her in a simple silk dress of lavender, leaving the silk flowers in her hair and matching it with a delicate lace shawl of white. Marianne was led through the castle, and up some stairs until she was quite lost. They arrived at an ornate wooden door carved with delicate primroses and butterflies that opened into a beautiful sunlit room. The room's walls were pale blue with miniature portraits on the wall that seemed more intimate than official portraits, as if Marianne was getting a hint of something more personal. 

There was a round table that was set with a white linen table cloth, a silver tea set accompanied by smoked salmon, scones, muffins and fresh fruit. The queen mother was already seated, wearing a dress of silk and cotton brocade in a lovely shade of sea green. Her auburn hair was done up with silver pins that seemed to be struggling to keep the wiry hair in place. She smiled brightly when she saw Marianne.

“Come in and have a seat, dear!” Marianne looked around, clearly nervous as she moved to take the seat across from the queen mother. A maid stepped forward to pull out the chair for her. She nodded, taking the seat and looking across the table at the older woman. 

Griselda smiled. “You can call me Griselda and you are Marianne?” 

Marianne nodded. “Yes.” 

Griselda set about buttering a scone, motioning for Marianne to do the same. “Please have some tea, eat something since I know you missed regular tea time.” 

Marianne cautiously set about making her tea and making a small plate of food. Griselda grinned at her. “I bet you are wondering what on earth made me ask you here—correct?” 

Marianne smiled, looking unsure of herself. “Well, the thought did occur to me that this was unusual.” 

Griselda nodded, taking a bite of her scone. She sipped her tea and then murmured “I wanted to talk to you about the king, about my Bog.” 

Marianne felt all the blood drain from her face. Oh no. “Yes, your...Griselda?” 

The queen mother smiled. “My son may seem like he is, well...he is king. But he is also a man.” She had her head lowered slightly and then looked up at Marianne. The woman's eyes were completely unlike her sons, small and gold colored. “I want my son to find love. I know this gathering isn't necessarily about that, it's about the king finding a queen, but...” She stared hard at Marianne now. “My boy likes you, a great deal, but he is hurting at the moment.” 

Marianne looked shocked. “What happened?” 

Griselda sighed. “He saw that man kiss you.” 

Marianne looked not just upset, but crushed. “But I, I didn't want him to! I slapped him!” 

The queen mother sipped her tea. “Bog didn't stay to see that part. As far as he knew you were kissing someone and I could see the hurt. He won't talk to me right now and I am afraid of him closing himself off again.” 

Marianne frowned. “Again?” 

She set her cup down, her eyes settling on Marianne once again. “There was a young woman that he was in love with a few years back. She broke his heart terribly. She was a horrible person. When it happened, Bog blamed himself. You have been in the greenhouse, seen the primroses. I am assuming you know what they represent. Well Bog, in his grief destroyed them all. Every last primrose. It took that last couple of years for him to finally be able to put his heart back into bringing them back.” Marianne looked shocked. Her eyes shone with unshod tears at the thought of Bog being so heartbroken. 

“I worried about him, I still worry. He is a strong king, but he is a tender man.” Griselda gave Marianne a penetrating look. “If you have an doubts, leave now. But if you think he is worth fighting for, then stay.” 

Marianne pressed her lips together, giving Griselda a furious and determined look. “I will stay. I will not let anyone hurt him.” 

The older woman's face broke into a huge grin. “Good. I thought you might say that.” 

* 

The night of the first ball arrived. It was to be an elegant affair, the whole castle was in an uproar as last minute preparations were made. Marianne had not spent any time with Bog since the tea garden incident. It was clear that he was avoiding her. She sought him out, but he was always with another woman, surrounded by guards or someplace taking care of matters of state. Griselda did spend time with her, seeking her out and telling her not to give up. At dinner, Bog did not even look down the table at her, his face set in lines of pain, but also anger as if he was creating a barrier between himself and her. Her heart hurt terribly, making it difficult for her to eat or sleep. 

* 

Dawn was already dressed in a lovely evening gown of lemon yellow, embroidered with tulips, her bright hair in ringlets with yellow flowers and ribbons. She was the picture of sweet sunshine and happy innocence. Marianne's evening dress was of ivory, the long skirt and sleeves ending in scallop cuts, designs embroidered with tiny blossoms in silken thread, the sleeves curved over her shoulder in a low V in the back, highlighting her creamy skin, making her look delicate. Dawn made her sister's hair frame her face in soft ringlets piled on her head in a Grecian fashion, simple gold bands criss-crossed in her sister's thick hair. Dawn smiled at her in the mirror. “He will see you tonight. I promise.” 

Marianne swallowed. “I may leave, Dawn. I don't think I could stay here with him ignoring me like this. I don't want to stay.” 

Dawn laid her head on her sister's shoulder, hugging her tightly. “Marianne remember what you told the queen mother. You would fight for him? Well, you may have to fight him first in order to fight for him.” Marianne laid her hands over her sister's arms. “When did you become so wise little sister?” 

Dawn grinned. “Oh, I have always been the smart one, but I am so cute no one notices.” She grinned releasing Marianne to put a few more touches on her hair. “You are going to be the most beautiful lady there. King Brochan will be a fool not to see you!” Dawn laughed happily, pulling her sister to her feet and dancing around the room with her. 

* 

The sound of music drifted through the castle as the sisters followed servants and other guests toward the ballroom. The space was like the inside of a church, the ceiling arched and so high Dawn said in a curious tone, “I wonder how they clean those...” She nodded toward the huge crystal chandeliers that lined the ceiling, dancing with candles along the length of the room. The walls were decorated in ivory and gold filigree, the gold catching the candlelight and sending it dancing around the room. At one end she could see a large group of musicians playing as guests milled round talking and sipping drinks from tall, elegant glasses, that were taken from silver platters held by perfectly dressed servants. The dancing had not yet started as the guests waited until the king arrived. 

Dawn saw some of the younger women she had befriended. Marianne motioned her off to fill her dance card and talk with her friends. She walked the hall slowly, her eyes taking in the white roses and primroses that decorated some of the alcoves. Looking at the flowers made her think of Bog next to her under the table in the greenhouse. She smiled softly at the memory. 

She saw Roland, but thank goodness his attention was diverted by someone else. She made her way to the edges of the hall. That was when the music stopped. Everyone responded to some signal she missed, but her eyes turned to see the large double doors at the other end of the hall opened. Marianne felt her heart stop as Bog stepped into the ballroom. 

He was dressed in a long black coat that was so dark it seemed to soak the light into it, with matching pants and boots that were tailored perfectly to him. His waistcoat was of burnished bronze, veritably shining. His dark hair was brushed back from his face and he stood with his hands behind his back. At his throat, his cravat pin of amber was nestled at the hollow of his throat. He was so tall, towering over everyone. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest looking at him that it caused her to bring her hands to her chest. 

There were thrones set at one end of the hall for the king and his mother, as well as a chair for his aunt. They were elegantly carved and sculpted pieces of royal furniture. Bog's seat was carved vines, primroses and dragonflies in dark wood of gold throughout with velvet cushions of deep storm grey. Bog's throne was quite large to suit his height; there was something both whimsical and powerful about the chair that clearly reflected the man that sat upon it, while his mother's was tame in comparison, the primroses detailed with butterflies and roses. His aunt's chair was a celebration of blues and ivory looking both comfortable and ornate like the woman herself. Marianne stared as he walked by. His eyes instantly found her in the crowd. Bog's blue eyes looked haunted, hurt. She smiled, hoping to convey through her own eyes her feelings. He frowned when his eyes met hers, clearly confused by her, but just then someone put their hands on her waist. She turned, startled to see Roland behind her grinning. 

She quickly turned back, but Bog's face was set in anger and pain as he looked away, walking to his throne. 

Marianne balled her hands into tight fists pulling herself back from Roland. “Hey, Buttercup. I was planning on filling your dance card if...” She acted in an unladylike manner and shoved him. Her voice cracked as she hissed, “Roland, so help me! Stay away from me!” 

* 

Bog took his throne, his mood dark. Griselda reached over, laying a hand over his forcing him to look at her. “Bog. It's not what you think. Talk to her, ask her to dance.” 

He glowered at the crowd. He did not wish to dance with anyone. “No.” 

She sighed, knowing young women would start approaching him soon if he made no moves to add to their dance cards. This was going to turn into a complete disaster unless she could get these two together long enough to get past this misunderstanding. She looked around the ballroom, which was quite crowded with young women, their families, other assorted lords and ladies, but finally she spotted Marianne. She was standing by herself in a darkened corner, her arms around her chest rubbing her hands along her slender arms as if she was chilled. She was about to say something to Bog when a beautiful blonde woman with flat eyes approached the king. She dropped into a curtsy in such a way that her bosom very nearly fell out of her slightly indecent dress. 

“Your majesty, would you do me to honor of being the first on my dance card?” 

Bog sneered at the woman. He had spent time with Lady Victoria and found her irritating at best, but he knew he was expected to dance. He practically growled, “Fine.” He held his hand out for her card which she handed to him on a silver chain with attached pencil capped in silver. He signed his hand furiously, then nearly threw it back at her. Griselda glared at the woman. From the corner of her eye she saw that blonde, Lord Roland who had twice been harassing Lady Marianne and upsetting Bog, making his way toward Marianne again. Griselda knew she needed to put a stop to this. 

She rose, making her way to where her sister sat sipping some wine. She leaned over whispering to Plum whose face broke into a wide mischievous smile. Plum rose and nearly ran to catch up with Roland, grabbing the young man's arm and spinning him around. Griselda couldn't stop Bog's first dance with Lady Victoria, but she could make damn sure the next several belonged to Lady Marianne. 

Victoria pressed her lips together as Bog danced with her very stiffly, keeping his body well away from hers. His hands held hers a bit too hard as he moved rather mechanically. He was clearly paying no attention to her whatsoever. His eyes kept finding Marianne with each turn. Victoria tried to pull the king closer, but he stiffly refused to move an inch nearer to her as he twirled with the other dancers, his movements as stiff as his attitude. “Your majesty is such a wonderful dancer.” She smiled her most suggestive smile. “Truly I wonder what other movements your majesty would excel at?” 

Bog narrowed his eyes at her with a frown, a scowl settling across his features. As soon as the music ended, Bog stepped away giving her a very stiff bow and then turned on his heels and stalked back to his throne. Victoria cursed internally, but just as she was thinking to go after him she saw the queen mother leading Marianne over to the king. 

* 

Bog flopped angrily onto his throne just as his mother appeared with Lady Marianne in tow. “Bog dear, no one has signed Marianne's dance card. I thought you should dance with her next.” Bog looked between Marianne and his mother, the urge to refuse on his lips, but when he gazed at Marianne he just...he wanted to dance with her. He looked around for Lord Roland, but he seemed to be nowhere in sight at the moment. Marianne curtsied. “I would be honored if his majesty would dance with me.” Bog stared at her, then slowly, almost reluctantly, reached out for her hand. Griselda stepped back making a motion at the musicians. 

They took their place in line with the other dancers, facing one another. The king bowed and she curtsied. He took her hand in his, stepping forward and back. Marianne did the same, her eyes on his blue ones. Then they took each others hands, walking down the row of dancers before moving around other individuals. He smiled stiffly at first, walking forward almost chest to shoulder sliding in a circle around one another.

When she came close into his arms he suddenly found he could not let go of her. Bog stood, her hand in his, he wrapped his long fingers around her hand softly. His eyes never left hers as he tenderly pulled her closer, one arm going around her waist, his graceful fingers settled on her back. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric of her dress, sending heated tendrils over her skin. 

They started to move slowly, their steps in perfect synchronicity unaware that the musicians had changed to suit their new dance. Bog stepped out, his hand guiding hers over her head, their fingertips touching as they walked slowly around each other to the music. Their eyes never wavered from one another as they danced. Marianne's gaze locked with his, the music carried them across the dance floor neither aware of anyone else as the other dancers had stepped off the floor when the king started to waltz suddenly with Lady Marianne. He spun her gently back into his arms, holding her hand in his, the other spanning her back. 

Bog and Marianne swirled together to the soft music unaware of anyone else in the room. Unlike with Victoria, Bog's movements were graceful—he flowed, glided with Marianne in his arms. He did not hesitate to pull her closer, the lights of the candles flowed over the two of them with an amber glow. 

She looked up into his face, a gentle smile creasing her lips as she whispered only for him to hear, “I missed you.” 

Bog swallowed, his cheeks flushed. “What about Lord Roland?” They turned together, her dress flaring out as she replied. “He is just trying to win me back, but I slapped him.” 

Bog muffled the laugh that suddenly rose from his lungs. “You did?” 

She grinned sheepishly. “Yes. I know. Very unladylike, but he had it coming.” 

Bog's smile became bigger, showing the crooked teeth she liked so much. “I am sorry I missed it.” 

Marianne giggled. They twirled and dipped, having only eyes for each other. Bog's long fingers moved up her back in an absent gesture, only stopping when the tips touched the skin of her bare back exposed by the dress. His face turned a light pink. “You look beautiful tonight,” Bog whispered, then looked embarrassed. “I mean, you always look beautiful—just especially so tonight.” He winced which made Marianne laugh. “You look dashing, your majesty” 

Bog made a face, wrinkling his nose until Marianne murmured gently, “Bog, you do look very handsome tonight.” 

His cheeks turned brighter red as he swirled her around, realizing only a second too late that the music had stopped. They looked at each other for what seemed an eternity, his hands burned where he touched her. He could feel the heat of her so close to him, the pull of her as he gazed into those soft brown eyes. Several heartbeats passed before 

Bog released her hands, stepping back and bowing gracefully to her. She curtsied, her cheeks rosy, her face lit from within, and her heart beating so quickly she felt sure it would burst from her chest and take flight. 

* 

Victoria was steaming, looking around for Roland who was suppose to be keeping Marianne occupied and away from the king! After pushing herself through the crowd, she finally spotted him with the king's aunt. She had her arm through his and was chatting away while Roland looked helpless. When he saw Victoria's stare, he simply shrugged. Victoria ground her teeth in frustration. She made her way over to him, trying not to stomp, but to keep a controlled gait. She glared at Plum, but because of her position she remained polite. 

“Lord Roland, you promised me a dance, did you not?” Roland glanced at Plum who smiled. “Oh, you go on young man.” She waved him off making her way back to her seat. Victoria nearly grabbed Roland forcing him off into a corner. “What happened? You were suppose to keep her away from the king!” Roland shrugged. “Lady Plum cornered me! What was I to do?” Victoria all but snarled, turning to look toward the thrones. 

* 

Marianne had stepped aside as the king was obligated to dance with other women, but he made sure to fill out most of Marianne's dance card. She held her dance book close to her heart watching him. He may have been dancing with others, but his eyes would always find her giving a smile just to her. When they were able to dance again, he held her close smiling down at her or brushed her fingers with his in an intimate gesture. She leaned into him as they spun around the room and each time they danced they forgot about everyone else. Griselda sipped her wine with a very satisfied grin. 

* 

That night when Marianne readied for bed, she danced around her room feeling foolish, but she had been so happy dancing in his arms. The way he would smile, the sparkle in those blues eyes, the way he would find her when he danced with anyone else. She felt deliciously silly, but happy. Having sworn off love after Roland, she was surprised by how intense her feelings were for Bog. 

She brushed out her hair, braiding it for the night and had just climbed into bed snuggling down within her blankets and pillows when she heard something against her window. She laid there listening when it happened again. It sounded for all the world like a pebble rattling against the glass. She frowned getting out of bed and grabbing her cherry colored robe, slipping it on as she made her way to the window. She opened it outward, leaning out glancing down. Her eyes went wide in surprise to see Bog standing in the garden with his arm back ready to throw another stone. He stopped when he saw her looking down at him, for a moment looking like a little boy caught being bad, but he grinned up at her looking adorable. 

He whispered loudly. “Would you like to go for a walk?” Marianne giggled. “Yes! I will be down in a moment.” 

She dressed quickly in a simple muslin and linen dress, grabbing a shawl to place around her shoulders, not bothering with her hair, leaving it in its simple braid. She tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake her sister and hurried down the stairs and out into the gardens. She looked around a little until she saw the king jogging around the corner of the castle from where her window was. He was dressed simply with his cravat gone, his shirt loose with a long dark coat over it. He smiled hurrying over to her, taking her hands. “Hello.” 

She blushed. “Hello.” 

He moved her hands to his arm which she eagerly took. He laid his hand over hers and they started walking. The garden was lit with lanterns, not a great many, but just a few to provide enough light by which to walk, making Marianne wonder if he had them put out just for their walk. The flowers here were dark blue blossoms that seemed to open to the moonlight, soaking up its soft white beams. She admired them without saying anything walking beside the king. They were quiet as they strolled until Bog said softly. “I enjoyed dancing with you.” 

She smiled, blushing. “You dance beautifully.” 

Bog snorted. “It was my partner, not me.” He was quiet for a moment and then he said softly, “I am sorry that I thought the worst.” 

Marianne squeezed his arm. “I understand.” 

Bog stopped for a moment, turning to gaze at her. “Do you really?” 

She nodded. “I swore off love, too. After Roland. I only came here because my father wanted me to, but I had already decided that I was better served by being alone.” 

Bog smirked. “A king doesn't have the option. The kingdom needs to be secured. What I want or don't want...the kingdom comes first.” 

Marianne frowned. “What if you found love?” 

They came across a bench and Bog motioned for her to sit. He took the seat next to her holding her hands in his lap. He rubbed her fingers gently with his own. “I am not certain—I never gave it much thought after...” He looked uncomfortable. “After I thought I was in love, but she didn't reciprocate. She—I was too hideous for her to love and even as king she did not want...” He swallowed and took a breath. “Regardless, I have always assumed this marriage would be about the best political match or the best match for the success of the kingdom's future.” He looked down at her hands rubbing her fingers tenderly. She tilted her head. “You're not hideous and I like the scars.” She had seen them earlier, but saw no reason to mention them or ask, but now... 

Bog frowned his voice bitter. “King's don't have scars, king's are suppose to be powerful, charming and handsome...” She could tell he was reciting something told to him, something he had kept buried in his heart that he was not only unworthy of love, he was unworthy of being king. 

“Bog, you are handsome, charming, powerful as well as tender, romantic, intelligent and funny. You are ...” 

She swallowed clearly nervous. “You are wonderful, Bog.” 

Bog's face flushed clearly embarrassed by what she said. He held her hands a little tighter as if afraid to let go and she would disappear. 

Marianne watched the way his fingers, long and graceful, caressed her fingers and knuckles. They were both quiet before she asked. “What if you did find love?” 

Bog looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “Then I...” He swallowed. “Then I would be a very lucky man.” 

They were both quiet for a long time just holding hands. 

Bog looked around the darkened garden. 

“I use to sneak out all the time when I was younger to play in the gardens without having guards constantly around me, though now that I look back there were always lanterns waiting out here for me. I never gave it much thought, but I think my mother and father knew.” 

“Were you lonely as a child?” Marianne inched closer, her hip just barely brushing his. 

“Sometimes. I always wanted siblings, but—well, it just wasn't meant to be.” He looked down at her hands, lacing the fingers of his hands with hers. 

She gazed at his profile as he held her hands. She could see that he was lonelier than he let on, even now always surrounded by people, he was a very lonely man. Bog looked up from their hands in his lap. His eyes never left hers as he lifted one of her hands. Instead of kissing her knuckles, he turned her hand over and kissed her palm. Marianne went very still watching him as he kissed her palm again, then the ball of her hand, then her wrist. His lips were warm, soft, his eyes never once leaving hers as if watching, studying her reactions. Her lips parted softly at the feel of his lips. Looking into her eyes, he kissed the inside of her wrist once more before he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the movement of his lips a sensual tickle.

“I should let you go to bed. Good night, Marianne.” He rose gently holding her hands and lifting her to her feet. She swallowed as he walked her back to the door she had come through. “Good night, Bog.” She smiled at him, her cheeks rosy. Then, just as she was about step away he surprised her by reaching out and gently placing a dark blue flower (that he seemingly produced magically) behind her ear. He took one of her hands and squeezed it once gently before letting her go.


	4. To Pick a Friend

Marianne dreamed of dancing with Bog, the two of them in each other's arms, no one else around. His arms around her holding her against him, the way his blue eyes looked down at her, leaning into him. Just as he moved in to kiss her, she woke. She lay in bed, piled with soft blankets, smiling, her face buried in the pillow hugging it to her as she let the warm feelings of the dream move through her making her whole body shiver with delight. Today there was to be sports played out on the lawns; archery, croquet, badminton. It was to be held during lunch as a sort of outdoor picnic. Marianne rose, stretching her arms over her head. She could not keep the happiness from spreading through her as she stepped out into the parlour of their rooms to see her sister pulling in the breakfast cart the maid had brought. 

Dawn was dressed in her night dress and robe, all ruffles and ribbons, her face bright and sunny as always. She set out the tea pulling the lids off trays of delicious smelling food. Marianne was just sitting down to breakfast with her sister when they heard a knock at their door. Marianne pulled her robe closer around herself before opening the door to see a maid standing there holding a folded piece of paper. “Miss, I have a note for you.” The maid curtsied, handing the note to Marianne. “His majesty would like a reply.” 

Marianne opened the note, clearly handwritten in elegant but narrow script. It stated, “Would you care to spar with me before lunch? B.” 

Marianne grinned, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew her cheeks were bright red as she answered, “You can tell his majesty the answer is yes.” The girl grinned with another curtsy, her eyes twinkling. “Very good, my lady.” Then she hurried off in a flurry of skirts. Marianne couldn't help from pressing the note to her chest before turning around. 

Dawn lifted her eyebrows at her sister with quizzical smile. “So what does King Brochan want? Hmmm?” 

Marianne giggled. She knew she sounded girlish and maybe a bit silly, but she couldn't help it. “He wants to spar with me.” 

Dawn sipped her tea. “Oh, I'm sure he does.” 

* 

Marianne arrived, her heart beating out a quick rhythm, wearing a simple white muslin dress with tiny purple flowers printed over it. Her hair was done up in simple curls, white ribbons braided through her locks. This time Bog was waiting for her, wearing a simple white shirt, his throat and collar showing, without the frock coat. Marianne noted that his slim hips were quite striking. He smiled brightly when she stepped into the large room as he held blades ready for their use. “Marianne.” 

She curtsied. “Bog.” 

They two of them laughed softly as he handed the foil to her. 

* 

Victoria sneered. She had seen Marianne being led through the castle and decided to follow. A private meeting with King Brochan?! She was losing and it was time for her to take more extreme measures. She hurried off to find Roland. 

* 

She twisted her wrist in an elegant gesture that Bog blocked, taking a few quick steps forward. “What is your home like?” Marianne looked a little surprised by the question as she held her skirts twisting around to try to get behind him. “It's quiet. I mean, we have a large estate, lots of land, but there are not a great many people as there are here. We have a few servants.” Bog tried to move in on her, prompting Marianne to flick her hand back scoring a point with a smack of her blade on his wrist. He hissed at the sharp pain, but grinned. 

“Tough girl.” 

Marianne blushed and giggled softly moving out of his reach again. Bog turned, his long arms giving him excellent reach as he score a touch on her upper arm. 

She laughed, quickly backing away. Bog moved around her in a slow semi-circle. “So what do you do there? I mean, did you like growing up on your estate?” 

She smiled. “Oh, yes. We have a beautiful garden—granted not like the gardens here, but I think you would like it. My mother loved to garden too. She would tell us fairy stories about each of the flowers.” 

She moved back avoiding Bog's thrust. She danced forward trying to take advantage of his lunge leaving him more exposed, but he just barely managed to get out of her way in time. 

“Fairy stories? Really? That sounds nice.” Bog smiled. 

She laughed. “It was. She use to tell us this love story of how a goblin fell in love with a fairy, but never thought the fairy could love him, that he was too ugly for her to love. 

But he didn't know that the fairy secretly loved him in return. It was a cute story and it has a happy ending.” 

Bog lifted a brow. “It does?” 

Marianne grinned. “Yes, the fairy declared her love for the goblin. Then the two get to be married.” Bog smiled. He twisted around, his long lean body giving a graceful curve to the fancy move, in which he tossed the sword to his off hand and still managed to block her. He slid his blade along hers coming in close. 

“Yes, it was always one of my favorites.” Marianne grinned. 

Bog chuckled. “I would have thought that more along your sister's preference in stories.” 

Marianne blushed, giggling nervously. “Yes, it was one that both of us liked growing up. I have always liked the beauty and the beast stories.” 

“I suspect you were very cute as a little girl. Running around with a wooden sword, your hair in ringlets.” Bog smiled with a charming glitter in his blue eyes. 

Marianne smirked. “Probably not as cute as you with your little crown.” 

Bog burst out laughing then, which made Marianne's smile even bigger. She enjoyed being with Bog as himself, to know that the king was so open with her that he could simply be a man and not a monarch. 

* 

“Do you spar with any of the other ladies?” Marianne didn't want to ask, but she was curious and maybe felt a tinge of jealousy. Bog ducked and then twisted to the left, avoiding a swipe at his face. “No. Just you.” 

He smiled at her. She felt her cheeks burn. Bog muttered. “Couple of them have been interesting.” He was not really watching her reaction to what he said; he was just making conversation because he was truly interested in only Marianne. 

Marianne pressed her lips together. She felt something hot run through her, constricting her chest for a moment as she extended her arm, the tip of her blade lashing forward in a vicious stab just missing his shoulder. Bog took several startled steps backwards out of the way with an appreciative smile at her aggressive move, was she jealous? No. She could not be, not over him. Could she? He felt his chest tighten, his heart beat a little faster. What? Maybe? No? Yes? 

* 

Marianne grinned showing her teeth. She had Bog on the defensive. He moved forward with a lunge but she managed—just barely—to avoid it, though her move gave Bog a chance to chase her back. She moved backwards swiftly, but her back hit the wall. She had miscalculated how much distance she had. Bog came up quickly, Marianne's blade caught his high, blocking his blade over her head, but he was suddenly pressed against her, their crossed swords above their heads. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. He was so handsome and he didn't even realize it. She could feel this strange prickle in her eyes, along her throat into her chest. Dash it all, she was falling for him thoroughly. 

Both of them went still, staring into the depths of each others eyes. They dropped their weapons at the same moment. Bog reached out running his hands along her neck gently cupping her jaw, his thumbs soft along her cheeks. He was panting from the exercise as was she, a lone drop of sweat rolled down his neck past the hollow of his neck. 

Her eyes traced it for a second before snapping back to his blue eyes. He pressed closer, she flattened her hands against the wall as she stared up at him swallowing, hoping he might kiss her. Bog's nose brushed hers as he leaned in, his lips were so close, her mouth slightly open, she could feel the exhalation of his breath against her mouth. He swallowed, his eyes moved down to her lips then back to her brown eyes. “Marianne, there is no one like you...” 

She whispered softly, “Bog...” He angled his head just slightly, moving a hairs breath closer, she felt the tickle of his soft lips about to touch hers, the heat of his body, when someone cleared his throat. “Sire?” 

Bog closed his eyes and stepped back from her, dropping his hands to his sides. Marianne suddenly felt cold as he moved away. 

Bog turned, his expression foul as he snapped. “What?!” 

The young man looked a bit scared as he muttered. “Ah, the queen mother sent me...the ah...luncheon is almost ready, sire.” 

Bog snarled. “Fine!” 

The young man jumped at the tone in Bog's voice before he hurried to leave. Bog turned and suddenly cupped Marianne's face, pulling her close and kissed her. She gasped as suddenly his soft, warm lips were against her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise, but then slowly closed sinking into him as his thumbs stroked her cheeks. When his lips parted, she started to respond, the tip of his tongue barely graced along her bottom lip, when there was another throat clearing. “Sire, your stylist says he needs you right now.” 

Bog pulled back gingerly, his lips tenderly brushed hers one more time. He opened his eyes to gaze longingly at her before swallowing and stepping back. He bowed. “Lady 

Marianne, may I see you at luncheon?” 

Marianne felt flustered, but she managed a curtsy. “Yes, your majesty.” She smiled gradually, her cheeks burning. Bog stared at her with an emotion she wasn't quite sure how to label before turning to follow the poor young man. A servant stepped out with a smile. “Shall I escort you to the luncheon, milady?” 

* 

Marianne went back to her rooms to change for luncheon, her heart pounding in her breast. She needed to collect her sister. Both sisters were going to participate in the archery, which had Dawn very excited. Dawn was an excellent archer. She was also excited because Sunny was going to be able to participate after her request to the king had been approved. Sunny practiced with her at home, the two of them quite the team of archers. 

Marianne waited impatiently as Dawn happily hummed, making adjustments to her sister's hair. She re-coiled Marianne's ringlets making them longer and softly before she tied her bonnet on for her. Marianne's bonnet was a simple poke bonnet with a thick lavender bow that match her simple pale lavender, short sleeved dress. Dawn's was a little more flamboyant, a stovepipe puff bonnet with a long ostrich feather, but the colors of pale blue suited her perfectly, along with the silky pale blue dress. 

“I think Sunny will be quite taken with you today.” Marianne grinned at Dawn, who blushed, her whole pale face turning bright cherry red. 

It wasn't long before a servant came along and the sisters were escorted out onto a large field where tables were set with white linen cloths and light ornate chairs for those taking lunch. The field was divided for the different sports, the archery area out of the way from everything else. The king had yet to arrive. Victoria, dressed in a flimsy almost see-through dress of thin muslin and white lace, was keeping her eyes alert for the Summerfield sisters. When she saw Marianne and Dawn as they stepped out onto the field, she sneered. 

She picked up her skirts, moving swiftly over to Roland. He was chatting with a couple of ladies near the archery section flashing that smile of his that melted hearts and got him into many a bed. She sighed, annoyed that he was letting himself be distracted when he had promised to help her. “Roland, may I speak with you?” 

Roland glanced at her looking slightly annoyed at the interruption, but he excused himself kissing each lady's hand before making his way over to Victoria. “What?” 

She sighed. “Marianne and her sister are here—did you get someone to do as we wished? 

Roland smiled. “Don't worry, everything is going as planned. Now shush, do you want someone to hear you?” 

Victoria took a calming breath. “Fine, I am going to drop a few choice words with a few choice people.” The smile she gave was very snake-like as she rolled her shoulders and headed off into the crowd with a hissed, “Everyone loves some choice gossip.” 

* 

Inside the castle, the three brothers worked together to break into the Ladies Summerfield's room. One to watch the people on the lawn, one to watch the hall, the other to steal the undergarments then repeat the process to put the items in Roland's room, placed in such a way that the maids would find them. They used only garments they were sure would clearly point to Marianne, just as Lady Victoria and Lord Roland had instructed, a petticoat that had her initials on the band, a corset and a stocking she had been seen wearing with hand embroidered flowers along the leg.

At the end of this, Lady Marianne would look like a common whore. A few well-placed whispers and they would have accomplished their mission. Out on the lawn, Lady Victoria moved through the crowd, letting her gaze grace over the many people picking out the perfect ones to set her plan in motion. Soon Lady Marianne's reputation would be ruined, then she would have no choice but to marry Roland as he would be the only one willing to take her, leaving the king for Victoria. 

* 

Marianne stood on her tiptoes scanning the area for Bog, making Dawn laugh at her. “You know they will announce him, Marianne.” 

Marianne blushed. “I know, I know.” Dawn took her sister by the arm. “Come. Let's go over to the archery—that will keep you occupied until he arrives.” Marianne blushed as her younger sister pulled her along. She could not believe how much she had fallen for the king already. Was she being foolish? Did he feel the same way? The kiss told her yes. 

The two young women were just strapping on leather vambraces over their left arms and preparing to pull on their archery gloves when the announcement that the king was entering the field was made. Marianne felt her heart hammer hard against her breastbone, her blood suddenly rushing hot through her veins as she again stood on tiptoe to get a glimpse of him just as everyone turned. She could not prevent the smile that spread across her face when she saw him. Oh, yes, she was most definitely in love. 

He looked splendid in a dark green frock coat and black pants, boots and a grey (almost silver) vest underneath. She bit her bottom lip—he was...gorgeous. She knew she was staring, but she could not seem to stop herself. His blue eyes scanned the field until they found her and she felt all the blood rush to her cheeks. While other ladies tried to get his attention, he walked with purpose toward Marianne and her sister. When he arrived to stand in front of Marianne, he smiled, just the hint of his crooked teeth showed as he gazed down at her, reaching out to take her hand, bowing over it. “Lady Marianne.” 

She curtsied and her dark eyes sparkled. “Your majesty” 

He pressed his lips together trying not to smile overly much, but he was having difficulty. Neither of them paid any attention to the sudden hissing whispers of the crowd. Lady Victoria sneered as she moved, whispering into the ears of those willing to hear the worst. 

“Lady Marianne, would you shoot with me?” He indicated the targets with his head as he still held her hand. Marianne curtsied again. “I would be honored, your majesty.” 

Bog grinned, motioning to one of his servants who brought him a well-worn vambrace, clearly one Bog used regularly. Dawn started to move off, grinning madly, but Bog motioned her to wait. “Perhaps your sister would like to shoot with us?” 

He bowed to Dawn, which drew out a giggle from the younger Summerfield sister. Marianne's face transformed into an even sunnier smile at Bog's thoughtfulness. “Yes, would your majesty mind if her friend joined us?” 

Dawn squeaked. “Oh, his name is Sunny!” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth at her outburst, causing Bog to chuckle. 

“Of course I would not mind—please fetch him.” 

Soon the four of them had the archery field to themselves. Bog motioned for both the ladies to shoot first. Marianne stepped forward, her sister aiming at the target beside hers. Bog tried not to be too obvious, but he watched Marianne intently. She moved gracefully, the concentration clear on her face as she found her mark. The two sisters pulled up their bows at the same moment. Dawn hit the target exactly in the middle. Marianne was off by a few inches, but it was still a decent shot. Bog looked very impressed with both of them as he walked by Marianne. As he moved by, both of them reached out, the very tips of their fingers brushing against the fingers of the other. 

Their eyes met at they walk past, cheeks flush. 

It was Marianne's turn to watch Bog. His form was graceful, standing to his full height as he pulled back on the bow aiming his arrow his eyes narrowed in concentration. He had removed his coat and so was standing in his shirt and vest. The slight breeze brushed through his hair sending a few locks loose around his forehead. She knew without a doubt that she probably looked to be swooning, but she didn't care. He was such a sweet, tender man, handsome and powerful, smart...he let the arrow go, zipping to hit the target exactly in the middle. Sunny shot, his arrow hitting the target, though high on it, but as always Sunny had the brightest of grins on his face. 

Sunny nearly had a heart attack when the king smacked him on the shoulder giving him a friendly smile as he walked back over to the sisters. “Good job!” He stared at King Brochan's back before stumbling to catch up. 

* 

Meanwhile in the castle, a group of maids were going about cleaning rooms while the guests were outside of the castle walls. The three of them giggled as they made their way to Lord Roland's room to make the bed and pick up his clothes. One of the young women was picking up the laundry when she came across a woman's stocking. She let out a little gasp when she saw it. “Sally, Sally look at this!” She held it up. Sally turned, her eyes going wide in surprise. “Ain't that the color stocking Lady Marianne wore the night at dinner, Molly?” 

The young woman, Molly, nodded. “Aye, I think they are! Look here at them flowers sewed on it, she were the only one had those I think. She and her sister are the only ones I ever see wearing the colored stockings. All the other young ladies are favoring the white. You don't suppose it's hers do ya?” 

By then the third maid, older than the other two by the name of Sophia had joined them taking the stocking from her. “Mmm... it's possible I suppose. I had heard that Lady Marianne was once engaged to him.” 

The other two maids made gasping noises of surprise. “Oh do ye know the story, Miss Sophia?” 

The older maid shrugged. “Well, I know what I been told.” She then proceeded to tell the story as she heard it, of Lady Marianne breaking poor Lord Roland's heart. 

* 

The following day Marianne did not get to spend time with Bog, just the two of them alone though she saw him at tea. Since theatrical performances were to be performed that evening, Bog was expected to make rounds to visit the players as well as last minute fittings for his evening attire. Though after tea she did receive a note written in his own hand.

My Dearest Lady Marianne, I trust you are well today. I look forward to another sparring match with you tomorrow if you are willing. Tonight I hope to see you at the theater. Your Friend, B 

The note was accompanied by a single purple primrose. 

* 

That evening after dinner, everyone was to be transported to the theater on the castle grounds by carriage or coach. It had been built by Bog's father for his mother because of her love of dramatic performance. It was a grand building that could seat everyone in the castle with seats to spare. 

It was after dinner, everyone retired to their rooms to make ready for the theater. Dawn had made for Marianne, with her own hands, a beautiful dress of deep purple with black satin fringe accompanied by a black satin ribbon to accent her sister's waist. Dawn did her hair in ringlets with a simple flower wreath of purple and white silk blooms and elbow lengthened black satin gloves. She left Marianne's neck without adornment so that the king could gaze at her sister's slender neck, not that Dawn said that to Marianne. Dawn leaned over Marianne's shoulder, her cheek pressed against her sister's, looking at her in the mirror. 

“Oh, Marianne, you look so beautiful.” 

Marianne blushed. “Dawn, I think I might be falling for him. What am I going to do?” 

Dawn giggled. “Marianne, just let it happen.” 

Marianne looked at her sister in the mirror. Her gaze was equal parts excited and scared. 

Dawn squeezed her sister's shoulders. “Come now, help me with my hair.” 

Soon the two sisters were ready to leave, Dawn in pink satin with a white crape petticoat. Her hair matched her sister's in ringlets, but with a pink and yellow flower wreath in her hair with matching white gloves. They both wrapped their evening shawls around them in colors to compliment their dresses. Soon they were led to an open carriage pulled by two of the king's prize horses. Unlike the other carriages or coaches which belonged to the individual guests, the king had sent his own carriage for Marianne and Dawn, a dark brown carriage with black leather seats with gold fittings. The horses were also some of King Brochan's finest. 

Since the evening was clear, the sky was littered with stars, and a soft breeze blowing during the open carriage ride was very pleasant. They followed the line of carriages down a twisting trail that led to the theater. The path was lit with lanterns and the theater house itself was all alight creating an atmosphere that the sisters agreed was simply magical. 

They were helped out of their coach and escorted into the theater by suited valets dressed in royal livery of black, their coats trimmed in gold tread and buttons. The sleeves of each man's coat were trimmed in gold primroses. The men were all of matching height, their outfits, shoes and expressions almost all perfectly in-sync. Marianne and her sister were moving to find seats when they were approached by one of the royal servants.

“My ladies, this way.” He bowed indicating that they should follow him. They were led up some stairs that were narrower and more private than the grand staircases in other parts of the theater. That was when Marianne realized they were being led to the royal box. The curtain to the royal box, a thick red velvet, was held back and the sisters were shown to their seats in the front of the small row of seats where they could sit in clear view of the audience and the stage.

After a few minutes, the king was announced, everyone standing as he stepped into the royal box. King Brochan was dressed nearly all in black, including his shirt and cravat, while his vest was of deepest royal purple with gold thread embroidered throughout in primroses. He stood for a moment looking out at the audience below, though he gave a side glance to Marianne with a grin and a wink making her heart speed up. The entire theater bowed or curtsied to their king before he took his seat with her on his right, his mother, wearing a flamboyant gown of matching royal purple, feathers of the same color stuck throughout her hair, on his left. His Aunt Plum in her chosen color of sparkling silver and blues, matching feathers in her hair too, took a seat on Dawn's right who sat next to her sister. 

He leaned in and whispered to Marianne. “Do you mind watching the performance from here?” 

Marianne blushed. “Not at all.” 

He surprised her by reaching over, taking her gloved hand in his knowing that everyone's eyes were on them. Griselda grinned brightly—apparently her son had made his choice. The first performance of the night was “Romeo and Juliet.” The sets were masterfully crafted, the costumes beautiful and the audience was in tears from the performances. 

Bog held her hand throughout. Marianne would sneak glances at his profile. She saw just a hint of dampness in his eyes at least once. 

She squeezed his hand that held hers, causing him to glance over at her. She smiled softly and his grip tightened pleasantly. Neither of them were to know the rumors now circulating down below as the whispers of Marianne's wanton ways were slowly making their way through the crowd. During the break between performances, Bog sent a servant for refreshments as the ladies excused themselves to freshen up. When they returned, the king had sherbet set out for everyone. He smiled, blushing slightly. 

“I thought you might like for your sister to try it.” 

Dawn squeaked before she put a gloved hand over her mouth. Bog chuckled, bowing his head to her. They ate and chatted softly during the intermission. Griselda moved over to sit closer to Dawn and Plum so that she could quiz the younger sister about her love life. Soon the two older women and Dawn were chatting happily. 

* 

The next performance was a drama called “The Fencing Master,” which was wonderful action play, full of sword fights that had Bog and Marianne hissing quietly together as they cheered on the fighters only to find out one of them was the lady love in disguise. Marianne clapped her hands. He laughed softly at her enthusiasm. When the lights dimmed, signaling the end, Bog took her hand, kissing her gloved knuckles in the dark. The two of them looked at each other in the darkened theater Bog with her hand held up to his lips his eyes dancing. She squeezed softly. Griselda, Plum, and Dawn were watching holding their collected breaths. 

Bog smiled at her. “May I walk you to your carriage?” 

“I would be honored.” 

The three ladies deflated. Bog stood, the audience going quiet as the king stood to his full, impressive height and thanked the performers for an excellent show before he took Marianne's hand for all to see, bringing her to her feet and turning to leave with her on his arm as if she were his queen already. 

At the carriage he handed her up, kissing her knuckles one more time. His blue eyes never left her face as she curtsied and blushed prettily. He surprised Dawn by handing her up into the carriage with a light kiss to her hand and a smile, before he headed off, giving Marianne one last look over his shoulder before he made his way to the royal coach. 

* 

The next morning, rumors were starting to move faster through the royal household and among the many guests in the castle. Rumors of what had been found in Lord Roland's rooms as well as other whispers about the lack of purity of the eldest Summerfield daughter. Hisses of her loose morals. 

* 

At breakfast that morning, another note was brought, not for Marianne, but for Dawn. The note stated that King Brochan wished the presence of her company for a walk in the rose gardens. Dawn looked at the paper, then at Marianne, a slow smile growing on her face. 

Marianne narrowed her eyes. “What?” 

“He wants to talk to me about you!!!” Dawn was jumping in little hops of excitement. 

“How can you be so sure?” Marianne blushed, busying herself with pouring tea. 

“Why else would he want to see me??” Dawn giggled. “I bet he wants all sorts of information like what your favorite color is, favorite flower, what type of ring you would like...” 

Marianne turned more crimson by the minute. 

* 

Dawn dressed in a bright dress of lemon yellow, a straw bonnet on her head with a bright yellow ribbon and daisies. She was escorted to the rose gardens by a young servant name Alexander who was quite chatty. 

King Brochan was waiting by a gazebo, his hands behind his back, dressed in a dark frock coat with matching vest and top hat, a heavy amber encrusted cravat pin the only color on his outfit. He looked like a menacing shadow standing there admiring some of the roses. When she approached and curtsied though she saw that he was actually nervous. He bowed to her. “Lady Dawn, will you walk with me?” 

“I would be honored, your majesty.” 

He put his arm out to her and she took it, picking up her skirts a little as they walked. She could almost feel how nervous he was through his arm. Finally after a few minutes of silence he asked softly. “Does your sister like me?” 

Dawn blinked in surprise at the question. “Yes, she likes you very much.” 

King Brochan's cheeks flushed. “I like her a great deal as well.” 

They walked a little longer in silence again. Dawn covertly studied the king's profile. He looked menacing with his sharp features and the scrowl across his brow, but there was something vulnerable about him as well. He had stopped and was gazing out at the flowers. It was clear to Dawn he was trying to form his words. 

“Do you think...” He paused taking a breath. “Do you think she would accept if I asked her to marry me?” 

Dawn's eyes widened. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from squealing. The king glanced at her, a look of utter terror on his face, afraid that he had just done something unforgivable, but Dawn squealed. “Oh my goodness, are you going to ask her?” 

He swiftly led her over to a bench, setting her down and took both her hands in his as he sat. 

“I would like to, but I wanted to talk to you first, ask you if she would accept. I did not want my advances to be unwelcome. If they are, then I will leave your sister be. I want only her happiness.” 

Dawn tittered, squeezing Bog's hands and patting them. “Oh, Boggy! She adores you!” 

For a moment Bog simply stared at her. Had she just called him Boggy? Did she say her sister adores him? His heart picked up, he could not be so lucky, could he? 

She continued to smile brightly. “Yes! You should ask her and I know she would say yes! Do you have a ring picked out?” 

Bog stood again smiling brighter as he walked with the very chatty and open Dawn. “What are her favorite flowers?” 

“Well, Boggy...” 

“Bog.” 

“She loved that flower you gave her the other night and the primrose you sent with your note!” 

“What is her favorite color?” 

“Oh, Boggy! It's purple! This is so exciting!” 

“Bog.” 

“Oh, Boggy, this is so romantic!!! I am so happy for you both.” 

“Bog.” 

He finally brought her back around to where they began their walk, bowing over her hand. “Please say nothing of this to your sister, Lady Dawn.” 

Dawn giggled and curtsied. “Not a word, Boggy Woggy, Kingy Wingy.” 

The guards with them tried to cover their snorts of humor at the young lady's nickname for the king, while Bog groaned softly. “Just call me Bog, please.” 

* 

That evening, dinner was a trifle uncomfortable for Marianne. While she and Bog continued to exchange glances and smiles down the table, other men at the table were giving her looks that could only be defined as vulgar or insinuating. She had had to glare at several of them before they turned away. 

Later that evening after retiring to her bedroom, she heard the tinkle of pebbles against her window. Marianne rushed to the window and leaned out to see Bog grinning up at her, his hair tousled, his cravat missing, looking casual in a long dark coat. She blushed, grinning as she waved down to him before hurrying to throw on her dress and shawl. She practically raced down the stairs and outside. Bog had just jogged around the corner and was waiting breathlessly for her. They ran to each other, Bog taking her hands. On impulse Marianne brought his hands up to her lips and kissed his knuckles, shocking Bog to a stand still. He stared at her as she blushed, his knuckles still at her lips. 

“Marianne?” 

She glanced down, suddenly shy dropping her grip on his hands. He reached out running his fingers carefully along her jaw lifting her face to his, staring into her eyes. He reached out, taking her hand and gently brought it to his lips kissing the tip of each finger in turn. 

“Will you walk with me, Lady Marianne?” 

“Yes, I will, Bog.” 

He smile wrapping her arm around his, leading her into the gardens once again. They talked about the plays the night before laughing together. They were so engrossed in their conversation that neither noticed the rain clouds coming in until they were at the far end of the gardens when the first drops started to fall. They both looked up at the same moment the skies opened up, pouring down on them. Marianne squeaked in surprise. Bog wrapped his arms around her lifting up his coat to shelter her head as they jogged together, laughing until they took shelter under a large marble gazebo in the middle of the gardens on the side they were walking through. The guards jogged to keep up, though they stayed outside the gazebo. 

Bog dropped his coat, looking her over laughing. He looked younger, more relaxed. He was drenched, his hair sticking flat to his head, the white shirt see through with the dampness sticking against his chest.She tried not to stare, but she could see his chest and stomach through the shirt making her swallow nervously. 

Her dress was wet sticking to her, her hair damp too, though she was drier than Bog thanks to his courteous use of his coat. They gazed at each other, her hands seeming to move of their own accord to rest on his chest. She blushed softly. He leaned down, staring at her, his thumb caught her chin, tilting her face up. He brushed his thumb along her skin, moving his thumb to her bottom lip, his eyes burning, the blue standing out brightly in his face as they wandered over her face, his thumb playing across her bottom lip slowly, gingerly, tenderly, with loving care. 

His breath was warm. Her gaze lingered at his mouth, so close, as slowly her eyes traveled up to his again. He leaned in, only hesitating a moment before he pressed his lips to hers. 

This kiss was gentle and tender. He brushed her mouth once, twice, just a soft slide of his lips against hers, his eyes half closed. He lifted his gaze to hers, her lips parted just barely, her hands moving to go around his waist. He tenderly nipped her bottom lip with his, then her upper lip. She responded with tender brushes of her own lips, until he deepened the kiss, his tongue traced her bottom lip. Her tongue softly met his as his hand glided into her wet hair, his long fingers tangling in her curls, tilting her head gingerly, deepening the kiss. Bog's other hand went to her waist, the heat from his hand burned through the damp material through her dress, almost as if his bare hand was on her skin. His tongue moved into her mouth; for a moment she thought she had forgotten how to breathe.

His tongue was warm and soft, sliding against hers. She heard a soft whimper escape from her as she returned his kiss, her fingers knotted into the wet material of his shirt on his chest. His mouth moved over hers gently as he held her head in his hand, her tongue stroked his, the hand on her waist tightened just a fraction as he moved his tongue deeper into her mouth, pulling her against him. 

They were interrupted by one of the guards, who cleared his throat. “Sire, the rain has stopped and it is very late.” 

Bog moved his lips over hers for a few seconds longer, a soft pull of her bottom lip before he stopped, laying his forehead against hers. “May I escort you back, Lady Marianne?” 

His eyes opened slowly to find her deep brown ones gazing lovingly into his. “Yes, Bog. Yes, you may.”


	5. To Pick the Primrose

Marianne tried to remain still on the stool, wearing her gown for the masquerade. Dawn looked adorable with pins sticking out from between her lip, her sewing kit lying open and her blue eyes intense as she concentrated. The kit had belonged to their mother; it was shaped like a large clam shell with mother of pearl over it. The clasp opened to reveal several layers of pins, thread, scissors and other sewing accouterments. Dawn pulled a pin from her mouth as she made final adjustments to the dress. It was deep purple greens and blues, with satin leaves along the bodice and sleeves. 

The sleeves were very daring, sitting low on her shoulders, the bodice cut properly for modesty, but with tiny flowers and leaves sprinkled there to draw attention. The wings were on a seamstress bust in the corner, they had been delivered earlier that morning. They were large, but very light so that Marianne could wear them all evening. They were colored a deep purple like the wings of the butterfly from Bog's greenhouse. 

Marianne wished her sister would hurry up and finish so she could reread the note she had received this morning from Bog. He had apologized for not being able to spar with her that day. He had many kingly things that required his attention, but inquired if she would be willing to go riding with him tomorrow. She had of course answered yes. This note had been accompanied by a small gift, a silk hair ribbon of lavender, tiny silver primroses stitched along the borders of it. Marianne held satin cloth with delicate fingers while her sister continued to make adjustment to the bottom of her dress. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she held the ribbon to her lips. It was so sweet, a precious gift. Dawn had squealed when she saw it. “Oh, I will work it into your hair for the masquerade!! Boggy has such wonderful taste!” 

Marianne had stared at her sister. “Boggy?” 

Dawn giggled. 

Now Marianne held it, reluctant to set it aside. She was embarrassed by the intensity of her feelings and fearful. She didn't know if in the end he would choose her. She was fearful of hoping too much. 

* 

The masquerade was in three days time and preparations were being made everywhere throughout the castle and the gardens. Bog was a bit exhausted with all the last minute details he had to oversee. He was also feeling put out because again he would not see Marianne today. He had also taken the story of the goblin and fairy to heart. He hoped that the changes he was making to his costume for that night would be apparent to her, for this goblin hoped he could win the love of the beautiful fairy maid. 

* 

Performers had started coming in, setting up tents on the other side of the castle away from the gardens. The rumors were running through the castle like wildfire that the king was going to choose his bride the evening of the ball. Accompanying those rumors were the whispers of Lady Marianne's lack of purity, that she had not only given herself to Lord Roland and was continuing to see him in secret, but that she had enjoyed the company of several men. Some people quickly dismissed the rumors as nonsense, but others, flamed by Lady Victoria, were continuing to spread the tales of Lady Marianne's sexual exploits. 

* Roland was eating breakfast while one of the maids, Molly he thought might be her name, lay on her side asleep naked in his bed. The poor dear might be in trouble for not showing up to work, but he had worked her out quite strenuously last night and filled her little head with stories of his escapades with Lady Marianne. All in all it had been a productive evening and he was sure there would be many stories tonight circulating around the dinner table. 

* 

The next day Marianne was walking swiftly following Pare as he led her to the stables. She was dressed in a long riding coat of navy blue, a long matching skirt and black riding boots. She was trying not to run, but she was walking so swiftly that she kept over running Pare. She hadn't seen Bog at all yesterday except at dinner and now it was the afternoon of the following day. She practically ran into Pare when they came around the side of the stables and there he was. He was holding Umber and Imp's bridles, dressed in a riding outfit with a deep blue coat. His top hat kept his eyes shadowed, but he looked to be nervously bouncing foot to foot as he waited. He was talking to the horses, occasionally rubbing the nose of one. When he looked over and saw her, he stopped to stare, a slow smile forming. She settled down to walk, feeling like her cheeks were burning as Pare left them, grinning to himself. 

“I hope you do not mind if it's just us riding today?” Bog gave her an unsure look, but she grinned in response. “I do not mind at all.” 

He smiled, helping her onto her saddle being careful about where he placed his gloved hands, then gracefully leapt onto his own saddle with the ease of an experienced rider. Marianne quite appreciated the view of Bog straddling his horse, making her blush all the more brightly. 

They started off at a slow trot next to each other. “I wanted to take you over to another part of the estate. I want to show you something I am having built.” 

Marianne quirked a brow with a smile. “Alright.” 

They rode for a while, making their way from the grounds out further beyond a line of trees. They talked about nothing much. Bog told her stories of his learning to ride, how he broke his leg one summer. He had to spend the whole summer in bed while the leg healed. That was when he really developed his love of poetry, spending his summer reading. 

Marianne told him of the year when she was ten that she had decided to cut her hair off so she could pretend to be a boy. Bog laughed. “You cut off all your hair?” She nodded. “Yes, I did. I actually liked it for a short time, and it fit under the hats better too.” 

“I believe you were adorable! Am I wrong?” Bog quirked a grin at her and she laughed. 

“Well, my father had a fit. My mother just laughed and helped me with it until it started to grow out again.” 

“You were always very head strong weren't you?” Bog smiled as they navigated their mounts through a small running stream. 

“My father would say yes.” 

Bog laughed. “I like that about you, you're different.” 

Marianne blushed and then let out a gasp of surprise. A little ways off she could see a small cottage in the process of being built. 

“Oh, Bog, what is it?” 

Bog watched her reactions intently. “I thought when I married it would be nice to have a place to go, a small intimate dwelling near the castle with a smaller garden. Most of these flowers are to be wild flowers.” 

As she came closer she could hear workmen near the cottage. She slowly slipped off her horse. “Oh, this is going to be beautiful!” The flowers were still young, but she could see the hints of how would it look by next summer. For a moment, her heart constricted hard enough in her chest that she had to bring a hand up as if to hold her heart inside her chest. Granted, they kissed, danced, he...he seemed to like her...but....she pressed her lips together. She would not think about it, they were friends, he wanted to share this with her. 

They walked together, both of them leading their horses. Bog paid close attention to her reactions as he commented, “I wasn't sure about adding a small pond over in that direction.” He motioned vaguely. “For water flowers, maybe some ducks...” Marianne grinned. “That would be lovely. Big enough for a small boat? You could have evenings on the pond with a small rowboat.” Bog blushed, imagining Marianne lounging in a small boat with her umbrella as he rowed them around lazily, maybe her hair down, loose around her shoulders. “Yes, I think you are correct, maybe swimming?” He bowed his head trying to hide the blush as the sudden thought of skinny dipping with her came to his mind. 

“This is really going to be lovely, Bog.” Marianne smiled at him. 

He returned her smile hoping, hoping desperately that everything would work out as he wanted, that he had placed his heart on the right person. 

* 

Plum was making her way to her nephew's dressing room. He had made some changes to his costume for the ball and she was going to see what they were. Thang, the king's dresser and tailor was in a tizzy working to get everything for the king's costume ready for the ball. Bog was very specific about the look he was going for, having emergency supplies brought in. The poor little man was beside himself since the king had decided on these last minute changes on what this costume would be. So now assistant tailors and man servants were rushing about to get it ready in time. 

As Plum walked, she stopped short when she saw one of the offending boutonniere Thang was always trying to get Brochan to wear. The poor little flower creations ended up all over the castle as Brochan was always taking them off and tossing them places, driving Thang to distraction. Plum stopped, picking it up when she heard whispered voices. It was two of the maids. “I heard she would fall into bed with anyone!” The other woman giggled. “Lord Roland said she did the same to him! Broke his heart that she would throw herself around like that.” The first woman muttered. Plum pursed her lips. She didn't know Lady Marianne well, but this seemed out of character. She would talk to Griselda though Plum felt sure this could not be right. Nonetheless, she would do whatever it took to protect her nephew. 

* 

Finally, the night of the masquerade ball arrived. Dawn was leaning out their bedroom window watching people come and go as last minute preparations were being made. “Marianne!! Come here, come here!” 

Marianne laughed, coming to the window with her sister. Dawn pointed as large draft horses were pulling wagons of something—everything was covered by tarps. “Dawn, you cannot see anything, just...indiscernible shapes.” 

Dawn giggled. “Yes, but isn't it exciting! I saw armloads of flowers being moved and there were these long tables!” 

Marianne laughed, glancing over at her costume that sat next to her sister's. Dawn's was every inch a pixie princess with much smaller wings than Marianne's. Dawn's wings looked almost gold in the morning sunlight, the dress flowed from a high waist into layers of pale blue, detailed with gold thread. The sleeves were long, fitted to her slender arms ending with a medieval flare of a point over the top of her hand. The mask was floral in design in delicate false gold to match the wings. She would be a beautiful sight as she simply flowed in the dress. 

“So, I heard that the King gave you permission to have Sunny escort you into the ball.” Marianne smiled secretly, knowing that Dawn had requested permission even though Sunny was scared to go, having never attended any formal balls before. The few dances that had been held at their estates had been small affairs with only local lords and ladies. Dawn squealed. “Yes!! I have the most perfect costume for him with this amazing mask!” 

Marianne laughed. “How convenient!” 

Dawn stopped and narrowed her eyes at her sister with a slight smirk. 

* 

Open carriages started pulling up to take the guests to the ball. The glittering lights could be seen from the castle as the guests started making their way from their rooms. The costumes were luxurious, silks and satins, the colors were amazing with glittering masks, feathers and laughter. Marianne and Dawn had yet to step out. Dawn was waiting for Sunny, having given him his costume that afternoon. He was going to be escorting her. Marianne stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was done softly, the ribbon Bog had sent her woven into her hair along with tiny pearls and fake diamonds so that the light caught them and made them sparkle. The wings were silver, catching the light in a shimmering glow. The dress flowed down from her high waist in layers of purples and greens. The tiny leaves and flowers along the bodice moved up over her shoulders, her skin creamy against the fabric. Instead of gloves she wore purple cuffs of lace flowers that wrapped up from her wrists to her elbows. She was the vision of a fairy princess. 

And Dawn was a pretty pixie with tiny gold wings in her lovely blue dress. 

“You look beautiful!! Boggy is going to fall all over himself!” 

Marianne's cheeks turned crimson. 

That was when there was a knock. Dawn rushed over pulling open the door to see Sunny. He had his mask on top of his head. His outfit consisted of a crimson fitted coat and tight matching britches embroidered with leaves. It was lovingly detailed and very handsome. The mask was made of light wood, painted gold covering the upper half of his face and over his ears, the mask's ears were pointed. He grinned, his whole face lighting up when his brown eyes landed on Dawn. “Oh, Sunny! Look at you!” Dawn clapped her hands over her mouth, her cheeks flushing as she stared at him. 

Sunny grinned brighter, his love for Marianne's sister shining through his eyes as he looked at Dawn. 

“You did a wonderful job, Dawn. As always.” He reached out, putting one hand behind his back, bowing with his other hand extended toward her. “My lady Dawn, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ball?” 

Dawn giggled and curtsied. “It would be my honor.” Sunny took her hand and kissed her knuckles. 

Marianne smiled. “You two are so sweet.” Sunny blushed right red while Dawn grinned at her sister. “Are you ready?” 

Marianne laughed. “Yes, let us go!” 

* 

The carriage was pulled by two horses of the purest white that Marianne had ever seen. The carriage was again one of the king's royal carriages and the horses a pair of his own. Sunny smiled, helping Marianne up, but the smile he gave Dawn was one of pure adoration before he hopped nimbly up into the carriage to sit across from the two young women. “I'm a little nervous,” Sunny admitted with a blush. Dawn reached across from where she sat next to her sister and took one of his hands. “You are just as much a gentleman as any of them, Sunny. Plus, you look wonderful!” The two friends gazed at each other, clearly in love which made Marianne put her hand up to hide her smile. 

The horses moved smoothly along the path leading to the fairy lights in the distance. Marianne could see more and more lights as the carriage made its slow progress. The field and forests looked to be filled with twinkling fairies and stars. The trees supported more than candlelight; Marianne and Dawn exclaimed in surprise when they saw some fancifully dressed performers hanging from thick lengths of shimmering fabric, performing aerial dances. They had truly riden into a midsummer dream. The carriage soon came to a stop. Two men in solid white masks covering the upper half of their faces and matching white and gold livery stepped forward to help Marianne and her sister exit the carriage. Sunny hopped down behind them, his mask in place, though his brown eyes behind it were huge. 

As she stepped down, Marianne could see the paths were lined with flowers and lights twisting off into the distance. Further illuminating the area, the trees were adorned with crystal chandeliers holding candles that flickered softly. Long lengths of crystals and ribbons of white, silver and gold were strung everywhere to catch the light, making it dance around the party in an ethereal manner that was enchanting. Dawn gasped, her eyes sparkled like aquamarine gems behind her golden mask. Marianne's eyes were just as bright behind her dark mask, which curled around her face in an intricate design of swirls and vines delicately highlighting her amber eyes, the ends draped with tiny crystals that caught the light reflecting it in her eyes making them even more enchanting. 

Marianne could see long tables covered in white lace, each piled with numerous sorts of foods and drink. Music drifted over the entire party, seeming to dance on the air. Guests in elaborate costumes were everywhere, some wearing their masks, creating the illusions of many fey creatures stirring about the wood. Other guests held their masks on long handles. Everything was elegant, beautiful, ethereal. 

Marianne felt as if she had walked into the story she told Bog of the goblin and the fairy. She felt as if she were truly in an enchanted forest. She moved slowly as if she had been placed under a spell. Violins played softly as a handful of ballerinas, their faces masked in elegant floral designs, flowers in their hair, danced beneath a tree filled with draped crystals. As she moved through the ball area she could see dancers milling around, some twisting brightly colored ribbons, dancing to and fro with the ribbons circling them like magic. The performers all wore gorgeous glittering costumes and elaborate masks moving through the flowers and tress like ghosts dancing in sensual and exotic forms. She was so enchanted with the ball that Marianne did not notice the stares or whispers when she walked by. 

She picked up a glass of wine as her nervousness started to take hold. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she waited for the king to be announced. Marianne wanted to see him so badly. She could not stop thinking about him, about the kisses, but she was also scared. She had heard tonight he would pick his queen, the maids had been chattering about it all day yesterday. She sipped her drink, her eyes stinging slightly. All this would be over soon; her heart was breaking and all she could think about was wanting him to kiss her palm one more time. She loved him. Bother, why hadn't she told him? 

The crowd suddenly quieted. Her eyes turned toward where everyone else was waiting. She saw the royal carriage moving forward. The carriage was a beautiful ebony, pulled by white horses that matched the set that had pulled her carriage. Her eyes lit up, her heart nearly stopping. As the carriage came to a stop, the two men in white hurried forward holding the door. First came his aunt Plum, in a dress of brilliant silver and white with light blue details that shimmered in the candle light. The skirt was layered, making her quite wide. Plum's hair was piled in white, curled waves on top of her head supporting what Marianne could see even from here was a great ship. Her quarter sleeves, fitted and flared, dripped with crystals and lace. Plum's mask was on a long handle where it glittered in silver and blue. 

Next came the queen mother. She stood beside her sister (as close as she could with Plum's wide dress) when she exited the carriage. Her dress was in layers of dark green muslin over satin browns, her dress almost as big as her sister's. Both dresses were cut high in the neck line, where Plum's glittered with gems Griselda's had the theme of leaves and primroses, but in dark colors. Griselda's mask had horns that curled gracefully back, her hair twisted around them, the mask fitted the upper half of her face, blending into her hair. She looked every inch a goblin from the storybooks. 

Marianne's eyes widened, a goblin? But then the king stepped from the carriage and all eyes were riveted to him, hers included. Marianne suddenly couldn't breathe. He stepped down, his tall form clad in a long coat of black with intricate designs in bronze; the coat ended in wide, heavily decorated sleeves. The lights around him seemed to dance on him. His arms and shoulders were layered in matching armor coming up into sharp points at his shoulders. His mask covered the whole upper half of his face, the darkness around his eyes only made his eyes even more brilliant. The mask reached down and over his sharp nose making it look even more cutting. His head was crowned in spikes, all layering back from his brow. In his hand he held a dark staff with an amber gem in the middle of it, but what made her eyes tear up were the wings. 

She couldn't see how they were attached from her current position, but he sported two pairs of dragonfly wings that caught the light. They shimmered, throwing back a cascade of colors—blue, silver and green. He was the goblin that she had described in her story. He had to be. No one else would know, but she and her king. He stood between his aunt and mother looking around at his guests, when he spotted her. The smile that formed across his face was stunning, it made her heart hurt inside her chest. She echoed it when she saw him. It was as if suddenly no one else existed but the two of them. 

After a moment, Bog swirled the staff in a small graceful movement, a brief smile on his face. “Continue please!” 

The music, which had stopped, started up again. He made his way through the crowd being greeted and fawned over as he made his way further into the party. Her eyes followed him as they walked along a path laid out with thick fabric leading to a throne of carved wood that fitted his costume perfectly. The king stopped when he came up beside her, reaching for her hand. He bowed over it. “Lady Marianne, may I add my name to your dance card?” Marianne found that she couldn't speak for a moment staring at him. The mask made his eye blaze like brilliant jewels of sky blue, his mouth stood out as well, his lips sensual and very distracting, especially when he smiled at her. Marianne felt her knees go weak. “Yes, your Majesty.” She curtsied, but Bog reached out putting just the tips of his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to look at him. “I would like to take all the spaces on your dance card, Lady Marianne.” Her eyes widened. With his other hand he reached down to take her hand lifting her from the curtsy. He kissed her knuckles softly before smiling and proceeding to his throne. 

Marianne put her hand to her heart as she watched him. All right, did, what? She swallowed. Her thoughts were anything but coherent. 

The king took his throne and waved a hand to indicate that the dancing should begin. His mother leaned over. “Bog dear, what was that all about?” 

Bog blushed behind his mask. “Whatever do you mean mother?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don't you dare play games with your mother.” 

Bog looked down, rolling a ring on one of his fingers nervously. 

Griselda grinned noticing the ring was the one his grandfather had had crafted for his grandmother, a small golden butterfly with wings of delicate purple gems that wrapped around an intricately carved gold band. Bog had never, in all the time he had been king, removed the ring from the treasury until now. “Then it's true! Are you going to choose tonight?” She nearly came up off her ornate goblin throne. 

He looked across at his mother, but he said nothing, even with the mask his mother could detect the blush on his cheeks. 

Swallowing nervously, he stood up. “I suppose I should mingle with my guests.” Griselda watched him and his guards walk off a bit too quickly, making his mother smirk. 

Moving among the guests, talking to one here, another there, Bog maneuvered himself closer to Marianne. She was nervously watching him, hoping he would come closer. At one point, his back was to her. She was close enough to touch him when he reached behind him, his fingertips brushed her hand. She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from gasping. Moving off to give the group he was speaking with room, she dragged her fingers along his lower back under the wings feeling the fabric of his coat. It was a daring move on her part, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Bog glanced sideways at her, the blue blazing out from the darkness of his mask as she drifted past, his eyes following her every movement. 

Finishing his conversation, Bog walked determinedly over to the musicians. He leaned in talking to one of them for a moment until the musician bowed in response and the music changed. The violins took up a magical sound, the other string instruments rose with it creating an airy sort of music that danced on the evening air. Bog left the staff with his throne as he walked toward Marianne. The crowd parted in a wave like the waters of a river as Bog stepped toward Marianne. Griselda reached out ,grabbing Plum's hand nearly squeezing it off her sister. Both women followed Bog with their eyes. 

He bowed low to Marianne, his hand extended. “Would you dance with me, Lady Marianne?” 

She swallowed hard. He looked so magnificent, his bright eyes gazing at her from the mask. She placed her hand in his, his fingers wrapping around hers softly. He led her out to where the dancing had started. The arm he wrapped around her waist shook only slightly, the other holding her hand, his long fingers gentle. She noticed the butterfly ring on his finger, a piece she had never seen him wear before, and for some reason it caused her heart to thump harder. 

Marianne trembled as she laid her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his hand through her dress, taking her bottom lip in her teeth as she stared at him. They started to glide together across the floor. He smiled down at her as they moved, the fairy and the goblin, neither aware when the other dancers stepped to the side to watch the king and Lady Marianne. 

Lady Victoria snarled to herself, turning to glare at Roland who was standing behind her. Roland was dressed as a knight with shining green armor, fake wings of his own, looking like a cape of orange and brown moth wings gracing down his back. Everything about him was perfect. Lady Victoria looked every inch the black widow, her hair done up high with black feathers in her blonde locks, her dress cut low and her mask a simple clear fabric of sheer black over her eyes. Concealed so that only the most clever eye could see in her costume and dress were tiny jeweled spiders, each containing a small red gem like a tiny heart. She was seductive and beautiful, but she could not compete with the fairy princess Marianne. Her only plan now was for Marianne's reputation to be ruined, to turn this fairy into a whore so that Victoria could swoop in and heal the king's broken heart. She smile to herself as she thought about King Brochan falling under her spell, Queen Victoria, how perfect. 

* 

Bog moved Marianne around in a floating circle, his eyes never leaving her face. The smile that graced her face was soft and gentle, her eyes brimming with tears as she gazed at her goblin and she knew without a doubt that she loved him. Bog stepped back releasing her for a moment while holding only her hand to spin her in a slow circle before pulling her gently back into his arms. “You are like magic, Marianne.” Bog's voice was a soft melody to her ears, his accent caressing the words and her skin as he whispered to her. 

When the music stopped, Bog continued to hold her. At first his voice was a whisper, meant only for her ears. “I would ask for your hand, Lady Marianne. Will you have me for your husband?” 

She felt him tremble; he was struggling to control it, but he was nervous. This was a bold move and he was terrified, but he wanted her as his wife, his queen. 

“Yes, Bog. I will marry you,” she whispered back, her eyes large and holding unshed tears of joy. He stared down at her as if he hadn't heard her properly. “You will?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

He swallowed hard taking her hand and stepping back, projecting his voice as he announced. “I have chosen my bride. If she will have me, I have chosen Lady Marianne.” 

The blush that crept up her cheeks was brilliant as she stepped forward for the crowd to hear. “Yes, your Majesty. Yes.” 

She lifted his mask, his eyes still shadows with dark makeup. She pushed the mask atop his head stretching up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Griselda and Plum squealed in the most unladylike fashion, throwing themselves into each others arms hugging. 

Bog wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. He slipped the butterfly ring from his finger and glided it down her ring finger. The crowd was a mix of cheers and scattered silences since the rumors of Marianne being less than honorable had been circulating for days now. Lady Victoria hissed at Roland. “Now! Put a stop to this!” 

She shoved him out and Roland yelled loudly. “Sire!! You cannot take her as your wife. She is a harlot and a whore!” 

Everyone went still, the silence absolute following Lord Roland's declaration. Marianne's eyes widened in shock and a gasp was heard from Dawn. Bog's arms around her tightened. She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears of pain instead of joy. No, he couldn't believe that, please don't let him believe that! 

Bog looked down at her, but what surprised her was the complete trust in his eyes. He stepped away, picking up her hand with the ring, kissing her fingertips before letting go and walking forward to face Roland. 

“Sir, you cannot speak about my future wife in that way.” 

Someone from the crowd spoke up “But she is sire!” 

Then another and another voice. “Yes, her undergarments were found in Lord Roland's room!” 

“She broke with Lord Roland, but was still seeing him sire!” 

“We have all heard the rumors sire!” 

Bog narrowed his eyes, scanning the crowd. He stood very straight and tall, every inch the king as he scowled, his blue eyes sharp, her brow deeply furrowed. The expression on his face made several people take a step back. He looked over the crowd, his gaze coming back to land on Roland. His voice was a deep snarl as he spoke to the crowd though his blue gaze burned into Roland. 

“No one will speak of my future wife like this. NO ONE! I am the king here!” 

The look on his face was one rarely seen. His eyes flashed and his crooked teeth looked fanged, his costume made the goblin reference even more apparent as he snarled, his voice commanding. 

“I choose Lady Marianne and she has accepted.” 

He took a step forward, glaring at Roland. “I challenge you, Lord Roland, to swords. I will not have my future queen's reputation sullied by a known cad such as you.” 

Roland looked taken aback. The king wasn't suppose to challenge him to a duel! He glanced over his shoulder at Victoria who only glared back. Roland smirked then. Brochan may be king, but how skilled at sword play could he possible be? This could still turn out even better for him than simply getting Marianne. Killing someone in a duel was not punishable; besides, the king was challenging him. 

“Fine, your Majesty. I accept.”


	6. To Pick a Fight

Despite everything, Marianne was happy. She loved Bog so very much. After her acceptance of his proposal and Bog's declaration of the duel, the dance broke up fairly quickly, everyone returning to the castle for the night. 

Even though she was happy that Bog loved her, she was worried. Because she loved him, the idea of him fighting for her made her ill. She was shocked things had turned out like this; what should have been her happiest moment of her life had been sullied by Roland. But she put those thoughts aside for the moment as Bog pulled her close. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest and holding her tightly. He kissed the top of her head before leading her to the carriages to return to the castle too. 

* 

Rather late that evening, near to mid of night after returning to the castle, the king's mother, aunt, Marianne, her sister, and Sunny joined them in one of the inner royal chambers. They had removed their masks and wings before meeting, but were still wearing the rest of their costumes. Bog was already there, his mask, wings and jacket having been set aside, the dark makeup washed away. He was pacing with his arms behind his back. He was clearly agitated, a snarl on his lips and furrows on his brow. His mother, her mask gone, poured tea for everyone. Plum fiddled with her hair, trying to remove the ship. Seeing her distress, Dawn quickly came over to offer her services in removing the nautical vessel. Marianne had started to curtsy, but Bog rushed over to her. He pulled her out of her curtsy and into his embrace. 

She wrapped her arms around his waist with her face against his chest. She closed her eyes and inhaled. He smelled wonderful and his arms around her made her feel safe, wanted. Bog stroked his fingers over her hair as she murmured against his chest, “I am so sorry.” 

Bog frowned. He pulled back to gently lift her face with the side of his finger under her chin. His blue eyes were intense, gazing into her amber ones “Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. Those rumors are just vicious and unfounded.” 

Marianne's eyes widened. He trusted her, completely. That fact alone made her heart swell with love. He smiled at her as he stroked her chin softly with his thumb. 

Griselda quietly spoke. “Come have some tea, both of you.” Bog took Marianne's hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He led her over to the table, pulling out a chair for her and then handing her onto it. Plum seated Dawn and Sunny before pulling out a chair next to them taking Dawn's hand to pat it. Dawn was clearly upset. 

“I don't know how Roland got a hold of some of Marianne's things, she—she never! You don't believe him, do you Boggy??” 

Bog smiled at her. “I know, I trust Marianne. I love your sister, Dawn. Don't worry.” 

Marianne reached out, taking Bog's hand again and kissing his knuckles. She felt that it was so kind of him to reassure her sister. He blushed when she kissed his hand. The two lovers stared at each other. Marianne sighed. “You can't mean to go through with the duel, do you?” 

“I have to, Marianne. I cannot have these rumors going around about my intended and I will be damned if I am going to let anyone hurt you like that. It's not just about pride, it's about my duty as a king, my choice as a man and I will not let anyone ever try to stain your reputation.” 

* 

The next morning, Bog was practically assaulted by his advisers when he entered the throne room. 

“Sire, you must choose another bride!” 

“Your majesty, you cannot marry her with these allegations! It just cannot be done!” 

“Sire, a duel! You cannot! What if you lose—there are no direct heirs! The kingdom would be in chaos!” 

Bog snarled, ignoring them all. He walked the down the aisle (which was lined with a deep red carpet lined with ornate cushioned seats for the advisers) to his throne, the staff of state in his hand, its amber gem glittered in the morning light. The throne sat within a small enclosure, deep blue curtains trimmed in gold hung around the throne. 

The throne room, or at least this throne room for his work, was heavy with authority, the decorations all designed to demonstrate the king's power. Bog's royal staff made an eerie knock against the floor. He walked to the imposing throne. It stood slightly higher than any other place in the room. He turned to stand and wait with a hostile glare for everyone. It was clear that the king wished them to be quiet, which they did in an instant when his icy blue glare passed over them. 

Slowly, making eye contact with each person in the room, Bog sat back on his throne. He was dressed in all black, including his shirt and vest. The only color on him were his blue eyes and the cravat pin of an amber dragonfly. He sat, legs wide, his hand gripping the staff of state (something he rarely used) his knuckles white with anger. 

He was trembling with rage as he slammed the staff down and roared. “ENOUGH!” 

He stood at the same time then, his eyes hard. “I have made my choice and I know that Lady Marianne is above reproach! I will have no one speak so poorly about her. Lord Roland has called her character into question. I will be damned if I am going to let that stand!” 

Bog gazed at each of the advisers, his lips curled into a snarl. “There will be no more discussion of it. I am to duel Lord Roland this evening. That. Is. Final.” 

* 

The afternoon sunlight glinted off the ring on Marianne's finger as she slowly rotated it back and forth on her finger. Dawn brushed her sister's hair while humming softly. She looked up to see her sister's expression in the mirror. Dawn smiled gently. 

“Marianne, don't worry. Boggy can take care of himself. I'm sure of it.” Marianne reached behind her, taking her sister's hand which she had laid on her shoulder. “I'm sure he can too, it's just that...I'm not worth this...I could fight Roland myself! I am good with a blade. Bog doesn't need to...no he shouldn't put himself in danger over this!” 

“Oh, Marianne! Yes, you are worth him fighting for you! He loves you!! Think about it, all the women here! Among all of them, you are the one he fell in love with! But you know that you fighting for your own honor is not the same as having Boggy step up and do it. It means more to have him, the king, fight for you, the woman he loves.” 

Marianne blushed, squeezing her sister's hand. “I love him, Dawn.” 

“That's good because he loves you too.” Dawn turned her hand to squeeze Marianne's. 

“I don't want him to do this.” Marianne looked at her sister's reflection in the mirror. Dawn smiled sadly. “Marianne, he's the king. I think he needs to do this and I don't think anything at this point can stop it. Just trust him to win.” 

* 

The sky outside had just started to turn pink at the edges. The two men stepped into the large practice room where she and Bog had sparred. Bog was dressed in dark pants, shiny black boots, and a simple white shirt only. He stepped into the room, his posture intimidating. His advisors were with him, his Aunt, his mother and his second, Sunny who had sought out the king, offering his services as the king's second without telling Dawn. Bog had accepted for two reasons: Sunny, he knew, was someone he could trust because he held the trust of Marianne and Dawn; second, the young man was so very earnest, Bog felt he simply could not refuse him. 

Roland was led in wearing all white as if the man were trying to bring the weight of righteousness with him in the pruity of his dress. A handful of others were in the room, a few lords and ladies necessary to witness the duel. Lady Victoria was hovering near the edges to watch, a fan held up to hide her smile. 

A servant came in clad in deep blue livery, holding a velvet blue cushion trimmed with gold primroses that carried two blades. They were of equal beauty, two rapiers with pommels and guards of silver, each with stylized, twisted vines, and primroses. The motif continued along the cross guards, the knuckle guards and sweepings. Royal blades. Bog picked one up, stepping aside to let Roland claim the other. Bog walked around testing out the blade a few times, the sound of it cutting through the air was both musical and deadly. He took several turns, his long lean legs graceful as he stepped forward, thrusting and then stepped back slicing the air. 

Roland did the same, impressive in his motions, but it was clear Bog was quite gifted with a sword where Roland was fair, maybe even better than fair. Roland shot glances at Bog, then his gaze searched the crowd until he found Victoria's eyes. He had not expected the king to be any good, but just watching him take a few practices lunges, testing the feel and weight of the blade, it was clear he had been very wrong. 

Bog walked a few more circles, his eyes glanced over to Marianne who was standing with her sister, Bog's mother and aunt hovering behind them. Marianne stepped forward, damn everyone, as she walked right up to Bog. He dropped his sword arm down, the point of the blade to the floor. 

She reached up, cupping his face between both her hands. She tugged him gently down to her. “I love you.” She whispered it only for him. His smile was soft, sweet, such a tender look of happiness on his face, it make her heart speed up, warmth spreading through her. Then she tilted his head and kissed him. It was no chaste kiss as she opened her mouth, eliciting shocked hisses and whispers through the watching crowd. She kissed him not as a king, but as the man she loved. With his free hand, he wrapped it around her waist and pulled her against him, returning the kiss with tongue and lips suddenly having forgotten they had an audience. After a few more seconds, she stepped back, her breath completely taken away. She gazed into his eyes lost in their blue depths. He stared back down at her, his lips looked slightly red from her kiss. He whispered only for her. 

“I love you, Marianne.” 

She blushed prettily running her fingers down the front of his shirt feeling not the cloth of the shirt, but the warmth coming from his chest underneath, before she stepped back. Griselda wrapped her arm around Marianne's shoulders pulling her away as she gave her son a significant look. He smiled just slightly bowing his head in respect to both women. 

He turned to look at Roland. He was standing not too far away whipping his blade about. He smirked when Bog's blue eyes glanced over at him. “I see Lady Marianne is still just as much a whore as ever.” 

The snarl that moved across Bog's face would have made a more intelligent man tremble. He took up his position, his hand that held the blade was straight out, the fist of his other hand on his hip. 

“Defend yourself, Lord Roland.” 

Roland took a similar stance, facing the king with a smug expression. Both men started to move slowly, circling each other at a deliberate pace. Roland struck first, lunging at Bog, who took several quick steps backwards before answering with a cross slash. Roland just barely avoided the quick blade, dancing back. Roland twisted around, his blade hitting Bog's in a series of quick slashes and sharp hits, steel against steel. The sound of clashing blades echoing off the walls in the otherwise silent room. The flurry of blades was quick, but neither scored any telling blows and then both men stepped back from each other. Roland made a show of slashing his blade through the air, an arrogant grin on his face. Bog stretched his arms over his head, his eyes finding Marianne's for a moment. 

He gave her a soft grin. She smiled back, though her heart was beating so fast that her chest hurt. 

The men turned, Bog pointed his blade, and Roland took a few swift lunges and then quick strikes. Bog's hand movements were swift, but he missed one parry. Roland's blade cut across the king's chest, opening up a slice across the fabric of the white shirt, followed by a blossom of red that spread out from the wound. Marianne let out an audible gasp as did Dawn. His mother only flinched, but made not a sound. Sunny winced at the sight. Bog turned with a hiss, the blood looking brilliantly crimson against his white shirt. 

He stepped away from his opponent for a moment with a steady look in his eyes despite the wound that the blonde nobleman had just inflicted. Roland peered at his side of the crowd, but then Bog swiftly turned, his blade seeming to take on new purpose. 

Roland blocked just in time, but then Bog had him on the defensive. His reach was long and his movements were precise. He had nothing of the flourish that Roland was executing with such glee; only determined purpose as he sent Roland backing up. The crowd behind him parted to let the two fighters move. With a twist of his wrist, Bog snapped Roland's blade out a few inches further than the noble could recover from in time and scored a hit along Roland's shoulder, deeper than the wound Roland had inflicted on him. Bog smiled, taking several steps back to allow Roland a moment to recover. 

Roland hissed in angry pain, looking at the blood running down his shoulder. He stepped forward, the crowd closing ranks again behind him. He charged at Bog, the two blades hitting in a quick series of clashes. Roland snarled as he drove Bog back with his anger fueling his attack. 

Roland feinted and feinted again, causing his opponent to adjust incorrectly, allowing him to pierce Bog's upper thigh deeply with his sword. Bog stumbled, dropping down on a knee. Roland pressed his advantage, stepping in with another thrust meant to take the king in between his ribs, but Bog snapped his blade up, knocking Roland's sword wide, avoiding another wound. He took advantage of the move to slice upward with a hit that caught Roland just barely under the chin, leaving a bloody slash. 

They broke apart again, each of their attendants coming out to check the wounds. After a moment, their attendants announced that they could each continue. 

Marianne squeezed Dawn's hand. Her eyes were glued to Bog, watching each movement. The two men swung around to face each other, immediately attacking. Bog moved swiftly, lunging forward. His movements were more aggressive as he tried to drive Roland to the ground. The hiss that escaped Roland's perfect lips was aggravated and disgusted. He was going to lose to the ugly fucking king! Brochan had far more skill than he had counted on; his only chance was to throw him off. 

Roland stepped in close to the taller man to lock his blade with Bog's. He leered, his green eyes alight with malicious vindictiveness. 

“Does she scream for you when you give her the old sugar stick or can you not get it up, your majesty? She loves to be treated roughly—give her a good flogging, she'll be begging you to rut with her, make her beg for it, the little dasher...hmm...Brochan...have you tasted her yet? Is she delicious or is she making you wait for the marriage bed? Playing the little mynx, is she? I promise I taught her well.” 

Bog's face hardened even more at the hissed words, and then slowly, to Roland's horror, something burned even brighter behind the king's blue eyes. 

Bog pushed Roland away, breaking the temporary close quarters struggle. Bog's swordsmanship took on a deadly edge. Roland tried to match his opponent, but it became clear that he was running at the end of his skills. Bog chased him across the room, blades slamming loudly, the sound filling the room. Roland pulled his blade and ran, trying to put some distance between him and Bog. Roland turned just as Bog gave chase managing to get a lucky strike, the tip of his blade just barely catching along Bog's chin, cutting a deep mark that managed to stop just before slicing into Bog's bottom lip. It would add to the kings other scars, but Bog didn't give notice of the wound. He twisted around fully with a slight leap, slamming his blade down on Roland. Roland barely had enough time to block before Bog's rapier hammered down on his weapon a few more times in rapid succession. Then, with a flourish, Bog snapped his wrist getting under Roland's guard and cutting deeply along his right cheek. Roland yelped, letting out a cry of panic, but Bog took several steps back, his blue eyes blazing as he allowed Roland to get to his feet. 

Roland touched his cheek in disbelief and looked at his bloody fingers. The one on his own chin would be something to flirt with, something to draw a lady in, but the one on his cheek! He snarled, nearly stomping across the floor toward Bog. 

He charged the king, and for a few heated moments the two men were locked close again, their swords trapped between them. 

“She's nothing but drab!! A common strump with her legs spread for any man with enough coin!” Roland's words this time were not whispered for Bog only; everyone present heard the nobleman's insults. Marianne jerked forward, the only thing keeping her in place was her sister's hand around her. Plum stood next to her and put a hand on Marianne's shoulder. “Patience, dear.” Marianne glanced over her shoulder at Plum, who gave her a calming smile. 

The combatants' seconds came out along with a couple of other men to pull the two men apart. Bog stopped struggling first. Stepping back with a growl, his lips were bloody where Roland had hit him with the pommel of the sword. Roland looked worse. Bog had punched him in the cheek, splitting the slice on his cheek wider, more blood coating his face and neck. 

Roland broke loose of his second, ignoring all the established protocols of dueling and came at Bog with another snarling roar. Bog brought his sword up to block and then shoved forward. The two men's blade slammed hard, clanging and ringing. Bog remained elegant even in his anger; he kept his form, his blue eyes hard as he rushed forward, his arm moving in a blur, though he was bleeding and tired. Roland was no match for the king. Bog stepped back and then forward in a long lunge, his blade catching the pommel of Roland's weapon and with a twist he flipped it up, out of Roland's hand. Then with a swift slash of his wrist upward, the king's blade drew a line from the bottom of Roland's jaw, over his nose and up into his forehead so fast that Roland didn't feel it at first. Bog kicked him in the chest, knocking the man back onto his rear. He held his blade down, the point of it at Roland's throat. He stood over the defeated noble, blood dripping down Bog's chin and blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were full of rage, his face cold. He looked down at Roland. His voice was low, but carried in the now deathly silent room. “You will yield, sir.” 

Everything was silent for a few heart-beats, the two men glaring at each other. Plum let go of Marianne, who rushed forward, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two swordsmen and her shoes on the floor as she ran to Bog. He turned and dropped his blade, his arms opening to pull her into his embrace. Marianne wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in full view of everyone. 

* 

She didn't see what happened with Roland after that. Griselda issued orders to get the king to the doctor and to have everyone escorted out of the chamber. The attendants descended on the two of them, the king being quickly escorted out and to the doctor who was already waiting behind a door at the end of the room. Someone tried to take Marianne out of the way, but Bog refused to release her hand and almost bit the head off of the servant who tried to remove her. He was led to the doctor who quickly ordered everyone out but Griselda and Marianne. Marianne saw Dawn, who had rushed over to her giving a quick hug to her sister before grabbing Sunny's hand. Plum took the two of them with her. 

After the commotion following the duel, the back room—clearly a dressing room and bath that was part of the exercise rooms—was almost too quiet. The doctor quickly went about pulling off his king's blood stained shirt. Bog hissed in pain, not only from moving his arms, but the bloody shirt stuck to the wound. The doctor cut away some of the fabric of his pants to check the wound across his thigh. He lifted the king's chin to examine the wound there, hissing. “They are all going to leave scars, your majesty. I will need to stitch them all.” 

Bog winced as the doctor examined his chin, though his eyes found Marianne's, bringing a smile to his lips. She grinned in return, her cheeks rosy despite her worry. 

“All right. I am going to give you something to dull the pain so I can stitch these up.” The doctor started to pull some items from a rather large bag, but Bog snarled. “No opiates. I don't want to be unable to think straight.” 

The doctor stopped. “Sire, I really must recommend...” 

Bog frowned with a hard look in his eyes. His tone matched his expression. “No.” 

With a heavy sigh as his only further protest, the doctor nodded. “As you wish, sire. Then I have some natural pain killers, though they are not as effective. This is still going to hurt rather noticeably. Would you like something to bite down on?” 

Bog nodded. “Aye.” 

Marianne stepped closer, taking Bog's hand. “You hold onto me, all right?” 

He looked at his wife-to-be with such loving tenderness and thankfulness, she could not doubt the depth of his feelings for her, even had he not just defended her with his words and body and blood. “Thank ye, Marianne.” 

Before the doctor started to stitch up the wounds, he gave Bog a strip of leather to bite into. Marianne held his hand, preparing herself. Bog tried very hard not to squeeze her fingers. She watched as the color drained from her chosens face as he bit down hard on the leather while his fingers spasmed in her hand; but he made it through the physician's ministrations. 

“All right, your majesty. I must insist that you rest.” 

Bog nodded. “I will, doctor, I promise, but first I need to make a statement.” 

The doctor frowned, but Bog's mother stepped forward and took her son's free hand. “Darling, let me. I've done this a time or two.” Griselda winked at her son. The frown returned to Bog's face, but she continued. “Marianne, why don't you take Bog to his room. I will have some tea sent up.” 

Bog started to protest again, but the doctor cleared his throat and spoke up. “Sire...” 

Bog sighed heavily. “Fine.” 

With help, Bog was escorted to his rooms with Marianne at his side and a pair of guards close behind. Griselda made an announcement that the king was well and under a doctor's care. Marianne's name had been cleared under the dueling tradition's rules by her champion's victory. No one realized in the following chaos that Lady Victoria had disappeared with Lord Roland. 

* 

Bog was cleaned and dressed in a nightshirt when Marianne was escorted back into his bedchamber. When she entered the room, she found him in his bed with pillows piled up behind him so that he could easily sit upright. A tea set sat on a small table by the side of the bed with a chair beside the table. She smiled shyly. “How are you?” 

Bog looked slightly annoyed. “They're treating me as if I'm ill, rather than someone who simply has some minor wounds.” He growled out the words, his brow deeply furrowed, indicating his ire over his mistreatment from his physician and mother. 

Marianne laughed lightly, moving over to take the chair by his bed. “They worry. I worry.” 

His expression softened as she sat beside his bed. 

“Thank you, Bog.” Marianne shyly took his hand. 

“Thank you?” He tilted his head in confusion, his blue eyes softening as he looked at her. 

“You fought for me.” Marianne's cheeks reddened. 

“I love you.” Bog grinned, showing those crooked teeth she found so appealing. 

“I love you too, Bog.” She squeezed his hand. He yawned, suddenly looking embarrassed as he quickly covered his mouth. He muttered, “I think my mother drugged the tea.” 

Marianne giggled. “I suppose she knew you would not rest unless she made you.” 

He shook his head slightly, lying back against the pillows, his hand still in hers. “It's treason. My own mother drugging the king!” She giggled at his grousing. 

They were both quiet, just looking at each other until Bog's eyes grew heavy. 

Marianne released his hand and pulled the blankets up after tucking in his arms. She thought about leaving him to sleep, but instead she moved around to the other side of the bed where there was more room and crawled onto the top of the blankets, lying on her side next to him. She smiled gently, watching him sleep, her head resting on her hands nested under her cheek.

“You are going to be my husband.” She whispered to herself while a soft smile danced around her lips. She didn't care that he was king. All she cared about was the fact that he was a good man, a tender, loving man who she loved and who loved her in return. It was more than she had ever thought possible after what Roland had done to her. She blushed, grinning, watching him sleep before she reached out and brushed his cheek softly with her knuckles.


	7. To Pick a Moment

It has been several weeks since the duel and Roland's disappearance. No one had noticed—or particularly cared—that Lady Victoria had vanished around the same time. Bog was healing nicely and was now allowed to move about on his own with crutches. He had snarled about using them, but the doctor had wanted him to stay off his leg, so crutches or a wheelchair. But now the stitches had healed and Bog went about unassisted. 

Marianne giggled softly as she tiptoed, looked both ways down the halls then slipped out the door to a side garden. This was a tiny personal garden that no one but the family was ever allowed to enter; now that Marianne was engaged to the king she was considered family. 

The flower garden was lovely. Full of a foxgloves, butterfly bushes and lilacs the smell was heavenly. She quietly closed the small wood door. Her eyes shot around quickly and that was when she saw Bog, he was hidden over by a statue. She grinned and hurried over making sure she wasn't seen. As soon as she was around the statue, Bog grabbed her pulling her against him. He dipped her slightly as he kissed her. And oh, was it a kiss! Her knees buckled, his large hands the only thing that held her up. His tongue moved against hers twisting and tasting her mouth in the most delicious way. 

Oh goodness, he could kiss. She ran her fingers into his hair, returning his kiss so passionately that Bog felt on fire. They finally parted, each of them gasping for breath. He grinned. “I have something to show you I thought you might enjoy.” 

He took her hand wrapping it in his longer one, his fingers lacing with hers. 

“Oh, I have something for you!” He turned around grinning like a schoolboy as he pulled out from the pocket of his jacket a necklace. The sunlight caught it, making the pink jewels sparkle and dance. He held it up, a necklace made of small pink diamonds, formed into delicate primroses that ran along a tiny diamond studded chain. 

Marianne stared. “Bog?” 

He blushed. “I had it commissioned the day before the ball.” 

He walked around behind her, tenderly placing the necklace across her delicate throat fitting the clasp behind her. It lay perfectly along her collar. “Oh Bog, it's beautiful, but you didn't have to...” 

The grin on his face was sweet. “I know, but I wanted to.” He looked so sweet, almost shy as he came back around to face her, his fingers tracing the jewels on her neck. “It suits you perfectly.” 

Marianne blushed, her cheeks almost the same color as the pink diamonds. 

She cupped his face kissing him again her finger against his rough cheek, the cheek of her soon-to-be-husband, just thinking those words sent thrills of pleasure through her. A slow passionate kiss, then she whispered. “It's not for the necklace, it's because you thought of me.” 

He laughed. “I love you!” 

She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him. He lifted her up, swinging her around with a joyful laugh. “Bog, be careful!! Your wounds!” 

He laughed deeply, happily taking her hand. “I'm fine. Come on, I have something to show you before we get caught again!” 

They hurried out from the private gardens, Bog holding her hand as he led her down a long and old looking path that led up to what was a small hidden area. Inside, circled by large trees were a couple of plain, yet comfortable looking benches and a swing that hung from the thick branch of an ancient oak tree. Bog grinned pulling her over to the swing. 

“My mother and father had this place built when I was little, a place where we could be a simple family, not a royal family. My father put this swing up for me. He used to push me all the time promising me one day that I would be able to fly into the air.” 

She grinned at Bog, who moved her to seat her on the swing. She was about to say it was too small, but it fit her comfortably. “May I push you in the swing, Lady Marianne?” 

She laughed. “Why, of course Your Highness.” 

Bog moved behind her with a grin and started to push her. She swung her legs out his hands pressed against her back pushing her gently. She smiled brightly, leaning back to smile at him; her eyes twinkled. “I love you.” She smiled as she said it. 

When she came back, he replied, “I love you too, my lady.” He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her backwards off the swing. She squealed as they fell backwards with a hard exhale of air, but then he rolled her off him quickly jumping on top of her. “You are so beautiful!!!” She reached up pulling him down on top of her, covering his mouth with hers. The kissing went quickly from innocent to passionate. Bog groaned softly, his tongue warm in her mouth. She moved her hands down his back enjoying the weight of his body against hers. His legs moved between her legs pressing her against the ground. It was the most passionate kiss they had ever shared. And then they heard someone clear their throat. Bog turned to see his mother standing there with a large grin and two of guards facing the other way pretending not to look. Bog swiftly got to his feet pulling his bride-to-be up with him. They were both blushing. Bog wrapped his arms around her, whispering softly. “I think we just got caught.” 

Marianne giggled, covering her mouth. Griselda smiled. “Sorry to break this up, but Marianne, dear, the seamstress is here to take some measurements. And Thang has been looking all over for you, Bog dear.” 

Bog groaned making Marianne giggle, but then Griselda was taking her hand. “Noooo!!” 

Griselda laughed, pulling her. Bog laughed too, kissing Marianne softly before she was pulled away. 

* 

The next few days were busy with Marianne and Bog only being able to grab a few quiet moments together. They didn't mind too much, for soon they would be husband and wife. Today the sisters were excited, their father was finally arriving. Bog had sent a royal coach for him with guards to escort him to the castle. When the sisters knew he would be there at any moment they had both hurried out to meet him. Bog had wanted to be there as well, but since he was king his mother said there was protocol that needed to be followed as king. Then later they could have a more private meeting as a father meeting the man who wished to marry his daughter. Marianne wore a dress that Bog had given to her.

The dress was the color of amber and made of silk and taffeta, the color just rich enough so that it made Marianne's eyes shine. There were embroidered primroses along the bodice and sleeves, as well as at the bottom of the dress. It had come with satin shoes to match, with a pair of teardrop topaz earrings. Her hair was held in place by a small tiara comb of gold laurel leaves and tiny diamonds. She had tried to refuse the gift as too much, but Bog had insisted with kisses and pleas. 

Bog had given her a gift nearly every day, from large to small. She had told him that he didn't need to shower her with gifts, that she loved him not for the things he gave her, but he had only smiled, his rough face taking on a tender aspect as he whispered softly against her ear. “I have never had someone to do this for, please indulge me for a little longer, my love.” 

Marianne had blushed, the heat of his lips against her ear melting her resolve. 

But her father was bringing a gift for her to give to Bog. Something special that meant a great deal to her. 

Dawn wore a lovely dress so blue it reminded Marianne of forget-me-knots. It was trimmed in the bodice with white lace, the younger sister's hair done up in soft curls with a matching blue ribbon. 

But what truly caught Marianne's attention was the very simple teardrop of aquamarine that graced her sister's neck, held in place by a silver chain. As they waited for their father (with a few royal guards around them) Marianne elbowed her sister. “Now where on earth did you get that necklace?” 

Dawn blushed prettily, her fingers coming up to touch the tiny stone. “Sunny gave it to me.” 

Giggling, Marianne was about to say something when they both saw the carriage carrying their father roll through the gates of the castle. The coach halted in front of them and a guard stepped forward to open the door. Dawn squealed as their father, looking tired, his dark blue suit rumpled from the ride and his hair a little less combed than usual, looked to be well, handsome and distinguished as he stepped out. He smiled holding out his arms both young woman running into his embrace. “Daddy!!” Both of them suddenly reverted to little girls after not seeing their father for so long. He hugged them tightly against him. “Oh, I've missed you two! My girls!” 

Valets came out to bring in his luggage. “Let's take you to your room, father, and get you some tea. Does that sound good?” Marianne held one of his hands while Dawn held the other. “That sounds wonderful. Then you can tell me about the king.” 

Marianne's cheeks colored prettily. 

* 

Soon the three of them were in a lovely room with a small bedroom, a sitting room decorated in deep gold and beige wall paper, heavy yet warm wood and burgundy chairs, and the large window tinted in the sitting room allowed warm sunshine to settle in the room. The tea was set out and Dawn was pouring, their father looked as if he has refreshed himself looking a little less road weary. “So, the king asked you to marry him, did he?” Her father was all smiles. “Oh yes, father. He is wonderful.” Dawn giggled. “Boggy is just the best! You should have seen him duel for Marianne's honor!” 

Dagda looked startled. “Duel? Boggy? What?” 

Dawn blinked. “You hadn't heard?” 

Reaching out, Marianne took one of her father's hands. “Roland was here. He tried to...well, he said I lot of terrible things.” 

Dawn nearly toppled her teacup in her excitement. “Then Boggy asked Marianne to marry him and Roland said some awful things, but then Boggy challenged him to a duel!! It was just amazing! He fought for her, Daddy!! You should have seen it!” 

Marianne blushed softly with a tiny smile on her lips. Her father tilted his head, gazing at his oldest daughter. “The king fought a duel for your honor?” 

“Yes.” Her voice was a soft whisper. 

“I like this king. He has good taste and knows the right thing to do.” Dagda reached out to take Marianne's hand and squeeze it, but then he glanced over at his youngest daughter in puzzlement. 

“Boggy?” 

* 

Dagda actually looked a little nervous. His daughters were on either side of him as they made their way to the royal family's private chambers. Dawn was all smiles. “Oh, Daddy. You will love him! He is perfect for Marianne. He is so sweet too! Did I tell you how he took me to the gardens to ask me about marrying her?” 

Marianne glanced around her father's shoulder at her sister. “You didn't tell me that.” 

Dawn giggled. “Well, it was a secret and then I forgot!” 

* 

Inside the royal chambers, Griselda sighed. “Bog, stop fidgeting so much! It's just her father.” 

Bog turned on his mother. “Just her father? What if he hates me, mother? He might not want me to marry Marianne!” 

His mother sighed returning to her seat to pour some tea. “Bog dear, you are king.” 

“Yes mother, but I want him to want “me” to marry his daughter, not the king.” 

Griselda frowned. “Dear, you are who you are and you are the king.” 

Bog groaned and resisted the urge to wipe his hand over his face. “You know what I mean...” 

She laughed. “Yes, but darling, Marianne loves you. That will hold more weight than anything. Plus if he is a smart, he will see what a wonderful man I have raised.” She smiled contentedly and sipped her tea, which did nothing to calm Bog's nervousness. 

* 

The guards knocked, the doors were opened by another set of guards who then escorted the small group to the main room where Bog stood nervously waiting, his mother seated at the tea set. As Marianne, her father and her sister entered, they bowed. Bog stood stiffly. He inclined his head a little in greeting, but not too far, just enough to show respect. 

Dagda glanced at Marianne who motioned him to stand straight, not sure how to proceed next. He seemed to chew over his words before he spoke. “Sire, Your Majesty Brochan I wanted to...” Here her father was suddenly at a loss for words. Bog stood very straight at his kingly best. He attire was one of his more magnificent outfits, reserved for meeting with extremely important people. It was a coat of ivory, with heavy gold embroidery of vines and primroses. 

The pants were of matching colors, but the vest was a deep, blood red, the gold embroidery continued in lavish detail at the vest. If Marianne had not known betterr by the scowl on Bog's face, she would have thought him upset. But by the way he kept his hands behind his back, she knew now that he was quite nervous. Dagda kept his eyes averted, but Marianne gave her husband-to-be a look that said he needed to loosen up and to do so NOW. 

Bog blushed, his kingly expression crumbling into a smile toward Marianne. “Please call me Bog.” 

Dagda frowned, glancing up in confusion. “Bog? I thought your name was Brochan?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, her father looked mortified at himself, but Bog only chuckled. “Aye, but I prefer Bog. Please, be seated. This is my mother, Griselda.” 

His mother grinned with a slight incline of her head. 

“Tea is set—please sit everyone.” Griselda looked charming in a pale green afternoon dress, patterned with large leaves and dark green primroses. Her hair had been done in a soft fashion, but with large green dyed ostrich feathers stuck along the top of it and flowing down the back of her hair. Dagda glance at her in appreciation. She was still a handsome woman, if a bit eccentric in her dress. Bog pulled out a chair for Marianne. He leaned in close to her ear, not exactly kissing it, but his lips were close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “I love you.” He whispered it for only her to hear. She smiled, her cheek blushing prettily. 

Dagda still looked nervous as the queen mother poured the tea. Soon they were talking, relaxed like a family, the fact that two of them were royalty quickly forgotten. 

They were all enjoying themselves, Dagda being convinced to tell stories of the girls when they were younger until Marianne started to threaten Bog. Bog chuckled, claiming he would make a royal proclamation that a book of the future queen's childhood antics should be published for the public. Everyone was laughing. Dagda had almost forgotten this was not simply meeting the man who wanted his daughter's hand, but the king and the queen mother! He smiled watching Marianne and the king interact. She was very deeply in love, something he thought he might never seen after Roland. The king, Bog, was just as deeply in love with her. He sent a soft prayer to his wife hoping that wherever she was, she was seeing how happy their eldest daughter was now. 

A servant came in with a quiet knock. “Sire, the gardener is here for your meeting.” Bog smiled. “Oh, yes. I will be there shortly, thank you.” 

Bog stood and bowed to everyone. “Please continue without me. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Dagda. Dawn, Mother...” He took Marianne's hand, kissing her knuckles as he whispered. 

“Marianne.” She grinned. “Bog.” 

He bowed to his mother. “Mother.” 

He smiled as he left. Griselda grinned. “Off to make more wedding plans.” She sipped her tea. “Speaking of, Dagda we need to send you to our tailor for a fitting.” 

Dagda laughed good-naturally. “Oh, now the hard part of a wedding begins!” 

* 

Three days later, Marianne was sneaking through the castle. The last three days had been nothing but fittings, meetings followed by yet more fittings and more meetings! When she had received a note from Bog which she found hidden within the platters brought in for lunch, she had almost squeaked out loud with excitement. They had barely seen each other in the last three days! 

She was exhausted, dress fitting, trying out different hair styles, going over seating charts for dignitaries, and then menus. She knew a lot went into planning a wedding in general, but a royal wedding was an event and as the king's queen-to-be, she was expected to participate in the planning. She discovered that, in fact, as queen, she would be called upon to work with staff to attend to many such plans and events in the future. 

When she finally had been able to have lunch, she found a folded piece of paper among a bowl of grapes. She had glanced around before picking it up. “Meet me in the greenhouse, B.” She had looked around, grabbed a handful of grapes and hurriedly sneaked off. 

She kept hiding and moving quickly, holding the skirts of her dress up so she could move in quick spurts. Finally she was at the door to the greenhouse. She pulled it open and slipped inside. No sooner than she turned around after quickly shutting the greenhouse door, than Bog grabbed her lifting her off her feet. He swung her around grinning. She squealed in surprise, almost punching him. 

Bog laughed putting her down before spinning her around to cover her mouth in a knee melting kiss. She moaned softly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. She returned his kiss with equal amounts of passion. He picked her up which made her laugh before carrying her over to where he had a blanket laid out with a picnic. “Oh, Bog!” 

He grinned showing off those crooked teeth she adored, his blue eyes dancing. “I ordered the guards off for at least an hour.” As she looked at him, she could never understand how anyone had ever found him unattractive. His eyes twinkled at her. “Well, I assumed that if I was stealing you from your lunch that I could at least provide one for you.” He set her down and she flopped back on the blanket. 

“Oh, who knew that getting married was so exhausting.” 

Bog chuckled moving to lie down next to her, their shoulders touching. 

“I donna think I have spent this much time preparing for anything. Not even my coronation, which is the next ceremony we will have to have...” He laced his fingers with hers as he said this. 

Marianne glanced over at him. “What?” 

He smiled turning his head to face her. “To make you not just my wife, but my queen, you will have to be crowned queen. That is entirely a different ceremony.” 

Her eyes widened and she almost hissed. “I hadn't thought of that.” 

Bog chuckled, squeezing her fingers. “Donna worry, it is not nearly as bad as this one.” 

She pressed her lips together in an amused smile squeezing his fingers in return. 

Suddenly Bog grabbed her rolling her on top of him. She laughed straddling him her dress bundled up between them. “Your majesty!!” 

Bog laughed pulling her down to cover her mouth with his, she moaned softly, his lips warm against hers. His hands wandered up and down her back the heat from them burning through the thin fabric. She stroked his hair back from his face softly as she nipped at his mouth her tongue tracing his or exploring over his crooked teeth. She rubbed her nose against his moving her kisses to the side of his mouth then caressed his jaw-line with her teeth. 

“Hmmmm...Marianne...” Bog's eyes fluttered with pleasure. He rolled her onto her side following suit, his mouth moved to brush his lips along her ear, pressing a kiss to the soft area just under and behind her ear. She gasped breathlessly when his warm breath caressed the skin along her shoulder. He pulled the fabric of her sleeve down just a tiny bit to brush his teeth along the curve of her shoulder. She arched her back just slightly as his lips traveled along her collarbone, his chin brushed the tops of her breasts. Her hand moved up his side, bunching the linen of his shirt in her fist. She could feel the pressure of his arousal against her leg which made her shiver with want. One of his hands glided up to brush just barely against her breast over the fabric of her dress. They both stopped, pulling back. He rested his hand just under her breast along her ribs. His voice was breathless. “We should stop.” 

She nodded at a loss for words, only muttering. “Uh huh.” 

Bog groaned turning to lie on his back again, moving to hold her hand. She did the same, both of them struggling to catch their breath. 

They were quiet for a few moments, simply looking at each other, their hands clasped together when Marianne asked quietly. “Bog, will you teach me how to grow primroses?” 

Something passed through his eyes; it was soft and loving as his thumb rubbed along her hand. “I love you so much, Marianne. I would love to teach you to grow primroses.” She caught her bottom lip with her teeth grinning. 

Bog stared at her, at her mouth. She was hypnotizing. He shook himself and sat up pulling out some of of the food in the basket. “Let's eat first!” 

Marianne smiled, sitting up. The two of them laughed and ate lunch. Together. Bog fed her bites of apricot cakes, smearing them on her lips which made her laugh. She fed him in turn, bites of conserve of roses on biscuits kissing his lips after he took a bite. If anyone would have seen them, they would have thought them sweet young lovers, not a king and future queen. 

After they ate, Bog held her hand taking her over by the primroses where he began to teach her all about growing, caring, how to cross breed. He wanted to breed a primroses just for her, but Marianne said it should be something that represented them both which caused her husband-to-be to blush a great deal. 

As they worked, he told her new stories about the butterflies and some of the other flowers. He picked one primrose, a soft blue colored one and placed it behind her ear. He grinned, reaching up to brush some dirt that was on her cheek. She giggled blushing, her brown eyes sparkled in the light filtering through the greenhouse's skylights. 

Outside around the edges of the greenhouse, the triplets made their way to the door they were told would be there. The three of them, along with three other men, all loyal men to Lord Roland, moved to surround the entrance to the greenhouse. One of the triplets hissed. “This was not the plan! We were supposed to wait until the day of the wedding when Lady Marianne would be alone!” 

The eldest triplet snarled. “Look, there are no guards! This will be the best time for us to get her!” 

“But the king is with her!” One of the brother snarled. 

The eldest rolled his eyes. “There are six of us, one woman and him. Even he can't defeat all of us!And his majesty is unarmed.” 

“I still don't like this.” 

“Just shut up and do as I say.” 

The six of them all pulled their masks into place. They managed to get into the greenhouse without making a sound. They could hear two people speaking inside despite the size of the place. With hand motions, the eldest of the triplets directed the others, slowly drawing their swords. The small group moved in on the couple like a group of predators. 

The group could see the king and his wife-to-be working in the dirt. It was quite surprising. The king was talking about the primroses, neither paying any attention, their eyes only on each other. 

With a motion from the eldest, the six descended. Bog was tackled from behind, another grabbed Marianne yanking her to her feet. She cried out, but she swiftly twisted around lashing out, her nails cutting across the cheek of the man trying to grab her where his mask didn't cover. Another tried to put a bag over her head, but she was fighting so hard he could not get close enough. Bog went down in the dirt. He twisted, his strength giving him the advantage. Bog grabbed his assailant around the neck, flipping him over as he got to his feet. A sword thrust came at him, but Bog surprised the man by grabbing the blade. As the sword cut into his palm, he yanked with all his strength pulling the man off center which caused him to stumble forward. That was when Bog threw the man behind him using the force to propel him forward toward Marianne. 

Two men struggled to hold both Marianne's arms. She was frantically kicking and snarling, trying to break free. A third man got the sack over her head. She surprised him when she almost bit him. 

The other three were fighting with Bog, their weapons on him having gotten to him before he could get to his Marianne. 

He growled. “You know this is treason.” He took a breath and hissed, “There is no coming back from this!” One of the men glanced at his accomplices before glancing back at Bog. 

“You won't be able to do anything, we're wearing masks, yer majesty.” The man said it with so much sarcasm that it made the other two snicker. They weren't quite ready for how fast Bog moved, avoiding the blade, his fist snapping out to slug the man in his face. Another man slashed at the king. His blade managed to cut Bog across the back, but it was a shallow slice. The king charged, reaching across to snag the blade. The man tried to yank the blade back which sliced Bog's hand. 

One of the other men yelled. “Go! go!!” The three that held Marianne tied her hands together before they threw her over the shoulder of one kidnapper. She was struggling so hard they almost dropped her, as another tied up her ankles. As Bog fought, he saw Marianne struggling, but the three of them took off, stealing Marianne, stealing his Marianne! 

Bog shouted, “MARIANNE!!!” 

One of the men tackled Bog slamming him in the stomach hard enough that the air was knocked from his lungs painfully. Bog balled his hands together and slammed his fists onto his attacker's back, but that allowed one of the others to get behind him, slamming the hilt of his sword on Bog's head hard enough that he saw stars. The one holding him quickly dropped him, the three men taking off leaving the king on the ground bleeding and disoriented.


	8. To Pick a Sword

It had been a least a couple of hours since the king had left for a secret meeting in the greenhouse with his wife-to-be and the guards were getting very nervous. The king had yet to return from the greenhouse, but no one wanted to go check. Every one of the guards was pleased with the fact that the king was getting married. All of them were happy for him, but no one wanted to be the focus of his wrath if he and the soon-to-be queen were in the middle of...relations. 

Finally, one of the guards decided he would rather get into trouble and lose his position because he found the king and the queen-to-be in an improper situation than for something to have happened. So, with a deep breath and a straight back, the guard made his way to the greenhouse. He approached the door, leaning his ear against it to see if he heard anything that would caution him away, but he heard nothing. He pushed on the door ever so slowly, afraid of seeing anything inappropriate. When he entered the greenhouse the first thing that he noticed was that it was too quiet. 

“Sire? Your Majesty?” He received no answer, prompting him to swiftly move the rest of the way in, drawing his weapon. “Your Majesty!!” He came around a table of gardening tools and stopped dead in his tracks. 

He saw the the king lying on his back, a pool of blood under his head. For a moment the guard's blood ran cold, oh no... He ran toward Brochan and yelled, “Someone get help!!! Get help now!!! The king has been attacked!!!” He didn't know if the others would hear him, but he had to try. He quickly felt for any other wounds and found none as life-threatening as the blow to his head. His king was breathing so the guard sped to the door and yelled at the top of his lungs for help. 

* 

Soon Bog was being carried into his bedroom, nearly coming off the stretcher as he yelled and roared—despite his head spinning—about Marianne missing, someone took Marianne!! He was going to kill anyone who tried to stop him, get his mother, get the royal guard!! He was raging, but they finally got to his room. The doctor called for the queen mother who came rushing in with Marianne's father and sister right behind her. It took a great deal of fighting with Bog, but he eventually allowed the doctor to take a look at the back of his head. While he was being examined, Bog started to yell for guards to be brought, the horses made ready and he wanted the hounds brought around. 

As all of this was going on, Dagda pushed his way to where Bog was being forcefully detained, surprising everyone, but when someone tried to pull him away Bog raised a hand. “Let him approach. He is soon to be my father-in-law!” 

Bog looked at Dagda, the man was old but not elderly and there was a fire in his eyes. He gave Brochan a fiery gaze. Bog was bent forward a little, blood coating the back of his neck, but the look of clear fury and devastation made Dagda smile with determination. “Sire, I want to go with you to save my daughter.” Dawn squeaked, but everyone else in the room remained quiet. 

Bog frowned. His first reaction was to deny his request, but then Bog nodded. “Aye, go to the armory, sir and arm yourself. We're getting Marianne back.” 

* 

It seemed as if her head had been covered by the smelly sack for hours. Riding a horse on her stomach was killing her it was so uncomfortable. She was uncertain of how long she had been held in front of the rider or where they were. She felt confused, her head hurt terribly and she wanted to vomit. 

Marianne replayed events in her mind. Her last view of Bog had been him being hit, a flash of blood and then her head was covered, her wrists bound behind her. She couldn't be sure if she passed out, but suddenly she was being hauled off the horse and shoved, stumbling forward. She could hear voices and after a second she realized one of them was Roland! The other, a woman, she wasn't sure about. Her voice sounded familiar, but at the moment Marianne couldn't place her; all her senses were so confused. 

She was roughly turned around, her arms yanked behind her. Heavy rope was used to secured her to a wooden pole that bit into her back. She could feel the rough wood against her arms and then suddenly the bag was yanked off her head. The suddenly influx of fresh air made her swoon a little and the urge to vomit came back, but she fought both. 

She opened her eyes slowly letting her vision adjust to the light where she was being held. Looking around it appeared be a barn of some sort. As her eyes traveled the room they focused on two figures, one of which was indeed Roland. Marianne had not seen him since the duel and now she gasped. His face was not hideous, but the wounds that Bog had left blazed across his face had certainly left it altered for all to see. There was something about his green eyes that was different, a glimmer of something—madness? The voice she could not placed belonged to Lady Victoria. Marianne did not find her presence surprising. There was something about the woman that had always made her uncomfortable. 

Roland was smiling as he came closer to her. He reached out and grabbed her chin forcing her face up and her eyes to meet his. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, Marianne. “ He tilted his head to the side smiling at her moving her face back and forth. 

“You are mad, Roland. Bog is going to kill you.” She snarled, her teeth bared at him. 

Roland moved so swiftly she wasn't aware of it until he backhanded her. “You will learn to show respect!!” His voice rose taking on a shrill of madness. 

Lady Victoria put her hand on his arm. “Now, now. Patience, Roland.” He stepped away from Marianne whose lip was now split to match a pressure cut along her cheek, but her glare remained in place. Sneering at her, Roland began to pace, pulling out his blade. “I am going to slice his throat for what he did to me!” 

Victoria tugged Roland away from Marianne whispering to him, clearly trying to calm him. Marianne took that time to work on her bonds. Her hands were tied behind her making movement difficult. She started slowly twisting her hands, trying to work the ropes loose while keeping her eyes on her captors. 

* 

Bog hurried out to the stables. He was still dressed as he had been when the guard found him, blood staining the back of his shirt. The only addition now was that he had his blade at his side. He had the castle hounds with him, the dogs running beside him, excited to give chase. Three of the dogs' handlers raced to keep up with their king's long strides. 

Dagda was there waiting, holding the reins of two horses, Umber and a mottled grey. He tossed the reins of Umber to Bog, who grabbed them with barely a look at the reins. He gave Dagda a swift nod of thanks. 

Bog put his foot into the reins and leaped onto his horse easily without assistance as Dagda got onto his, and then without waiting for the guards, the king and Dagda took off with their horses at a run. The dogs' handlers had been given a kerchief belonging to Marianne; they had her scent and were more the ready to go. As soon as the king took off, the handlers freed the dogs to follow the scent. Bog and Dagda were overtaken by the hounds and then they were following the dogs as they raced out of the castle grounds and into the surrounding countryside. 

Within a few minutes after their king left, the guards were together and giving chase to his majesty. 

* 

Marianne watched as Roland and Victoria stepped out, hissing together. Clearly this was as far as their plan had progressed. Judging by Roland's agitated state, the man was no longer thinking clearly, consumed with revenge only. She was not sure what Lady Victoria hoped to accomplish with this kidnapping, but judging by her expression, things were not going at all how she had planned it. 

Marianne smiled to herself. Good, it would make her escape that much easier. She didn't know what their plan was, but it no longer mattered, for it was going to end badly. Her heart hammered so hard that it flooded her ears as she concentrated on escape. She could feel the ropes starting to become slick as the rope cut into her wrists. She clenched her teeth against the pain as blood starting to drip down her fingertips. 

* 

Bog trembled with rage, his face set with murderous intent, his eyes on the hounds. Her father was only slightly behind him, the horse he rode keeping pace with Bog. They had been riding for over an hour, having moved into the deeper countryside when the dogs started making their way toward what looked like an abandoned building in the distance. He frowned, it might have been an old barn. 

He urged his mount to greater speed. 

* 

Victoria was outside. Everything had spiraled out of control. She was considering leaving Roland to do whatever he wanted to Marianne when she saw figures in the distance...dogs? Then, coming over the hillside she saw men on horses, moving quickly in their direction. Her eyes widened as she watched them approaching. She recognized Brochan's tall frame riding down on them. Granted he only had the dogs and one other person with him, but she knew the guards should not be far behind. Victoria did not want to be here when the king arrived. If Marianne died, and she wasn't here to be associated with the kidnapping, then she could salvage something from it, maybe even get Brochan to marry her eventually, but if things went wrong...she gathered up her skirts and ran toward one of the four horses out back. 

* 

Marianne managed to get one arm free with a gasp of pain. She had just started on freeing her other hand when she heard a commotion outside, a horse's neigh and Roland shouting. She moved swiftly, pulling the rope away, her wrists bloodied and damaged, but she was free. Marianne ran for the barn door setting both hands against the rough wood and shoved it open just as Roland yanked it out of her hand and pushed her backwards into the barn. Marianne let out a yelp as she fell back, losing her footing and going down hard onto her back. Roland snarled, yanking his sword out. “You are going to be my wife, Marianne. You might as well resign yourself to it!” 

She narrowed her eyes. “I would rather die, Roland!” 

He snarled, physically shaking. He reached down and grabbed her by the front of her dress ripping it as he yanked her to her feet and against him using his free hand to hold her against him. 

Marianne hissed in anger surprising him as she fought back. Her fist hit his lip, splitting it. He yelled, spitting blood. He threw her violently away from him, the madness in his eyes burning brightly. 

Marianne kept her feet this time, stumbling away, her eyes frantically searching for a weapon. 

“You bloodied me, you BITCH!” 

That was the moment the sounds of the hounds were heard right outside. Marianne sneered. “Bog is going to kill you, Roland! If you're lucky.” 

“You fucking bitch!” 

The doors to the barn burst open and Bog came striding in, blade in his hand, his clothing in disarray, his hair mussed and his blue eyes flashing with rage. 

“BOG!!” Marianne yelled his name. When he saw her, relief flooded his features, but then she gasped. “Watch out!” 

Roland had turned, saw Bog and charged. Bog brought his blade up, blocked Roland initial attack. He twisted his blade, pushing Roland away from him. Roland stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with crazed bloodlust. Bog narrowed his eyes, his blade held out in defense. He moved around, walking slowly, herding Roland away from Marianne. Bog's eyes were like ice as they followed Roland. He knew this was going to be to the death. “Marianne, are you hurt?” 

“I'm fine.” Bog glanced at her, the ice in his eyes melting away meeting her soft brown ones. Her father had come stumbling in right behind Bog, racing to his daughter's side. Now Dagda gingerly held Marianne. Bog's eyes gazed over her trying to ascertain that she was indeed unharmed. He caught a glimpse of her bloody wrists. Bog stumbled at the sight of blood on his beloved. Roland lunged forward, his blade cutting across Bog's collar, blood washing down over his shirt. Bog hissed in pain, his attention brought back to Roland. Roland was not prepared for the rage in the king as Bog charged him, his blade moved swiftly slamming, hammering Roland's and his blade up. Snarling, Bog caught Roland's arm just as Roland brought his blade under and up trying to catch Bog in the kidney. The tip sliced along Bog's side. Not deep, but the blade nicked Bog and more blood soaked through his shirt. 

Bog's long fingers wrapped around Roland's wrist in such a way that with a tight squeeze, he threatened to break his wrist. 

Roland leaned close. He snarled as he leaned close to Bog's face. “You are going to have to kill me! I will not give up until you have paid for what you have done to me!” 

He hissed, spitting blood in Bog's face. 

Bog's eyes flashed, the ice returning and coating over the bright blue. “Then as your king I condemn you to death, Lord Roland.” 

Roland was about to say something else, but Bog pushed him away one long leg coming up. He kicked out hard, his boot connecting with Roland's chest, knocking the younger man off his feet. 

With two quick strides, Bog was on him, his blade at Roland's throat. But he hesitated. Bog was not the type of man to kill another man when he was defeated. Bog's arm shook, his rage cooling. 

Marianne was safe, Roland was defeated; he could afford to be generous, even to this filth. He stepped back removing the tip of his blade from Roland's neck, turning to where Marianne was standing with her father, blue eyes instantly softening. 

Roland surged to his feet with a roar coming straight at Bog with his blade raised over his ahead. Clearly his intent was to kill Bog, damn the consequences. Marianne screamed Bog's name, reaching for him to push the man she loved to safety. Bog twisted around when Marianne cried out, his blade sliding into Roland's stomach and out his back when Roland stumbled into him. 

Roland's green eyes widened. He dropped his blade, hands grabbing a hold of the front of Bog's shirt, digging his fingers into the cloth. A trail of blood dribbled slowly from the corner of his mouth. Roland stared at Bog. For a moment the madness cleared from his green eyes. Bog stared back. Roland held on, neither man saying anything, sharing something between them, as the light slowly drained from Roland's eyes. 

* 

Two days later Marianne was sitting up in her bed with soft blankets and pillows surrounding her. Her sister sat on the bed beside her, having just brought in a tray with breakfast on it. Marianne's wrists were wrapped in clean white bandages that Dawn had just finished rewrapping. Marianne wore a soft pink night dress, trimmed in delicate lace given to her by the queen mother. Her warm brown hair was braided and looped over her shoulder, tied with a satin pink ribbon. Dawn had insisted this morning that Marianne let her comb and braid her hair. Marianne's color was much better, but the doctor had ordered one week of bed rest. She was about ready to try to escape through the window! In that last two days Marianne had been unable to see Bog. The doctor had confined him to his bed, as well. Though, for Marianne's well-being, Dawn and Sunny brought reports of Bog's snarling at everyone and his mother posting a guard at his bedroom under orders to restrain his majesty if he tried to escape. 

Marianne used her fork to play with her eggs, twisting the yolk around as she pouted. The morning sunlight coming in through the window would occasionally dance off her engagement ring bringing a smile to her face. 

“Were you able to learn how Bog is doing?” She frowned softly, glaring at her eggs. 

Dawn smiled. “I have a surprise for you this morning.” 

Marianne glanced up at her sister. Dawn, a vision in lemon yellow with white ribbons in her hair, giggled. “Be right back. Eat your eggs before the doctor finds out you didn't eat breakfast!” 

Hurrying out of the room, Dawn grabbed Sunny who was waiting for the signal from Dawn. Sunny was leaning against the wall, a book held in his hand. “Okay, bring him in!” 

Sunny grinned and signaled to one of the guards stationed outside the Summerfield sisters' door, who signaled to another down the hall. Soon Dawn was leaning through the bedroom door. “You ready for a visitor?” 

Marianne was sipping her tea when she glanced at Dawn. “Who?” 

Dawn stepped out of the way and Bog walked in. He was dressed in simple navy colored pants and a white shirt, loose as if he had just thrown it on. He rushed to her bedside. Even through the shirt, she could see the numerous bandages and the hint of one on the back of his head, but he wrapped his arms around her nearly spilling the tray everywhere. “Marianne!” 

“Oh, Bog!!” 

Dawn swiftly came in picking up the tray, removing the tea set before closing the door behind her and leaving them alone. Marianne insisted that Bog sit on the bed. He curled up next to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Being held led to kissing. He cradled her face with one hand, his thumb slowly brushed along her cheek, kissing her mouth in leisure caresses, tenderly memorizing the feel of her lips. She nestled into his embrace and returned his kisses. Gently her tongue brushed his, tracing his teeth. After a few more moments more of their sharing kisses, he settled down against the pillows guiding her to rest her head against his shoulder. He only winced a little. She started to pull away, but he refused to let her go. 

“I've missed you,” she whispered. 

Bog kissed the top of her head. “I missed you, too. I had to sneak out to come see you. The doctor is being overly cautious.” 

Marianne giggled. “Well, you are the king. Your well-being is important.” 

He made a rude noise which had her laughing, pressing her face against his chest. He grinned, chuckling with her. After their small fit of giggles, they were quiet again. Bog spoke softly. “I am sorry that you had to go through that. I didn't intend to kill him.” 

She stroked her fingers along his chest where his shirt fell open. “I know you didn't, Bog.” 

“Do you still want to marry me?” His voice held a soft choked sound, swallowing down his worry and fear. 

“Of course, Bog. I love you.” 

Shifting position Bog's blue eyes caught hers as she looked up. “You do?” 

“Oh yes, Bog, yes, yes—a millions times yes.” 

They rolled against each other, wrapping arms around each other, kissing tenderly. 

* 

Leaning outside the bedroom door, her back against it keeping lookout before mothers, fathers, or doctors tore the two apart, Dawn giggled softly, a bright pink blush on her cheeks. Muffled, she could hear her sister's giggles and Bog's chuckles. Sunny was beside her, also smiling. He slipped his arm around her waist and Dawn leaned into him.


	9. To Pick a Day of Celebration

Marianne stared at herself in the full-length mirror. Part of her still thought that maybe this was a dream. Her wedding dress was beautiful with the fabric glimmering like gossamer, catching the light so that the fabric and Marianne looked enchanted, a fairy princess come to life. The dress was of purest white, while along the bodice the dress was embroidered with tiny pearls and diamonds so that it glittered against her pale skin. The train of the dress spread out behind her like fairy wings, delicate silk and lace mixed together to create a cloud behind her. All the work on the dress had been worked by skilled hands, from each pearl, to every bit of lace. The train was embroidered with pearls and diamonds so tiny they were almost invisible except when light caught them. The design of the train was reminiscent of butterflies and primroses caught dancing in the light, glittering when Marianne moved. On her neck, she wore a necklace of delicate diamonds from which hung a tear-drop-shaped sapphire which nestled between her breasts. Her hair was in soft curls with blue and lavender ribbons with more tiny diamonds in her hair. Her bouquet that sat on the table beside her, waiting for her to pick up, was all primroses from the greenhouse, with the most delicate lace around them. 

Her heart hammered with anticipation as Marianne tried to wait calmly while Dawn buzzed about her, making last minute adjustments to the dress, or a curl of her hair, occasionally calling over a maid or seamstress to fix something or other that only Dawn saw. 

Marianne took a few deep breaths and whispered to her sister. “Do you think Bog loves me as much as I love him?” 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Silly, I think you two are so much in love it's contagious!! The way the two of you look at each other! I think Bog is so head over heels in love with you he can barely see straight! Have you seen the way he looks at you, Marianne?” 

Marianne giggled, blushing prettily and glancing down at her hands that she held nervously in front of her, her engagement ring dancing on her finger with the light from the window. 

Dawn took her sister's nervous hands, holding them tight in hers. “Marianne, Bog loves you. No one can look at the two of you and have any doubts. And I don't think you do either.” 

Marianne laughed. “You're right. Oh, I just want to go get this over with! I am so nervous! So many people!” 

Dawn giggled kissing her sister's hands. “Daddy and Sunny should be here any minute.” As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. 

Dawn rushed over, opening it a crack just in the event it was Bog trying to sneak a peek at Marianne. She had already had to shoo him off twice that day and threatened to sic his guards on him or worse, his mother, if he didn't stay on his side of the castle! 

Dawn's face bloomed into another smile at the sight of her father, but most especially Sunny. Both men were dressed in a deep wine color that looked almost black except when the sunlight caught material. Dagda wore a matching vest over a white shirt and pants, while Sunny's vest was decorated with a simple bronze primrose pattern, marking him as part of the wedding party. 

The ladies' father stood still, staring at his eldest daughter after being grabbed unceremoniously by his youngest daughter and hauled into the room. 

“Oh darling! I wish your mother could see you.” His voice was soft and wishful. “You look so beautiful.” 

Marianne moved carefully over to her father. He embraced her gently, holding back tears. 

He whispered softly. “You look so much like your mother.” 

Marianne sniffled, squeezing her father tightly. He cleared his throat smiling, holding her at arms' length with his hands on her shoulders. “Are you ready?” 

His daughter gave him a smile that radiated happiness like he had never seen from her before. “Yes father, I am ready.” He reached up to take the veil that was carefully folded over her forehead and pulled it forward over her features, a thin veil that did nothing to disguise her beauty or her happiness. Father and daughter smiled at each other, and then Dagda laughed, taking her arm and hooking it through his. Dawn rushed over throwing her arms around them both. “I love you both so much! I am so happy!!” 

Bright eyed and giggling, Dawn then rushed over to take Sunny's arm planting a kiss on his cheek that made the small man turn beet red, but made her father quirk a brow. Marianne patted her father's arm and whispered. “Later.” He sighed thinking to himself that goodness, his life was changing quickly. 

* 

The carriage that waited outside was black and gold, the interior a deep burgundy, a garden of primroses and other flowers glided along the heavily decorated doors of the carriage as well as along the bridles of the four white horses waiting to pull them to the cathedral. The coach men stood at attention, smiling when they saw the four of them exit the castle doors. In front of the carriage were four more white horses being ridden by guards in their dress uniforms, with another four behind the carriage. With a smart bow, the footmen opened the door of the open carriage. Dagda stepped forward and then handed his eldest daughter up into the carriage, followed by Dawn, Sunny and then himself. 

As they left the grounds of the castle heading toward the cathedral, Marianne was shocked to see crowds waiting for them. 

As the procession began, more guards on decorated horses surrounded the carriage before they left the castle grounds. Cheers greeted them and flowers were thrown. Marianne blushed, waving at the crowd who cheered and waved in return. Dawn giggled gathering up flowers that made it into the carriage. Marianne was so surprised at how many people were along the road leading to the cathedral. 

As they arrived at the cathedral, guards stood waiting for their carriage. As their carriage pulled up, Sunny exited first, putting his hand out to help Dawn, who was met with cheers by the crowd, and then their father followed. Dagda turned to aid his eldest daughter out and the crowd erupted into even louder roars of approval when Lady Marianne was seen standing in her wedding gown. 

Marianne stepped carefully from the carriage holding her father's hand. She stepped down onto a long red carpet trimmed in gold primroses leading from the carriage to the doors of the cathedral. The doors were open and she could see people inside standing, waiting for her. She clutched her father's hand tightly. “You alright, dear?” Her father glanced sideways at her. 

Marianne took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes.” 

He patted her hand after wrapping her arm around his. “You are going to be fine.” 

Marianne giggled softly. “If I don't trip on the way to the altar, I will be amazed.” 

Her father laughed. “Let us go, my dear.” 

Marianne's heart was pounding hard in her chest as she followed her sister and Sunny into the massive church, walking slowly with her father. Harp music drifted on the air as they stepped through the doors, the instrument's delicate sounds echoing softly through the grand cathedral. Marianne gasped softly. Inside, primroses, roses and baby's breath decorated every corner; it was almost as if she had walked into a garden. Her breath caught when she saw the butterflies gliding here and there and landing on flowers. Marble pedestals stood in corners holding water on which dishes floated that held fruit or other delicacies for the butterflies. She corrected her earlier thought: it was as if she walked into an otherworldly fairy garden. 

The vaulted ceilings stretched far overhead, the air above her danced with fairy lights like the night he had proposed and colorful butterflies danced through the air above her. 

As her father moved her down the long aisle, three ladies in waiting—her new maids that she had only met once before the wedding—came from the corners to pull out her train so that the fairy lights caught the delicate silk and lace while the tiny gems sewn within made Marianne glitter as she walked forward. 

Except for the music, all was quiet as her father led her down the long aisle. As she approached the front, she saw her soon to be mother-in-law standing in an elegant dress of lavender with jeweled butterflies in her hair. With her sister Plum beside her dressed in midnight blue and her hair done up with butterflies as well, both women grinned brightly and waved at Marianne who giggled and nodded to them, for just a moment forgetting her nervousness. 

As she moved forward, her eyes searched for her husband-to-be. Marianne was so overwhelmed with all the people, decorations, and pomp that when she stepped into the church she did not immediately see Bog, there were so many other people, butterflies and flowers, but as she continued her measured steps, Bog came into view and her heart nearly stopped. 

He stood at the front of the church, that area elevated so everyone could see. She could tell he was nervous by the way he kept twisting his long-fingered hands behind his back. He was dressed in a suit of the darkest blue and the vest he wore was of ivory heavily decorated with primroses and butterflies with an amber cravat pin that glinted in the light. He turned, looking down the aisle, his eyes meeting hers. He instantly became calm, his blue eyes never leaving her brown ones as he watched her slowly walk down the aisle toward him. 

Once she and her father mounted the stairs, Dagda bowed toward Bog and handed her to him. Bog delicately wrapped her arm around his with a smile. “You look so beautiful, Marianne,” he whispered only for her to hear. “You stepped right out of a storybook.” 

She blushed glancing down for a moment where his hand lay against her hand. “My king...you are the most handsome man in all the lands,” she said with deep passion that caused her voice to tremble slightly. The smoldering brown eyes raised slowly to gaze up into his blue ones. Bog's knees felt weak at her eyes and words. The way she looked at him sent his nervous heart to pounding. He blushed clear to his ears, but then they turned to face the priest. 

The words of the ceremony were lost on the two of them, their eyes never leaving each others faces. They heard a few words or phrases about the sanctity of marriage and crown, but otherwise the priest's ceremonial speech evolved into a background drone. Bog mouthed silently. “I love you.” 

Marianne blushed, her eyes shining. “I love you,” she mouthed back. 

They were too busy staring at each other that at first neither of them heard the priest ask about the rings. The older man cleared his throat. “My lady, your majesty—the rings?” 

Bog jerked turning to look at the man with surprise. “Oh, the ring!” 

Marianne giggled as everyone in the church laughed softly. She turned toward Dawn, who hurried forward holding the ring Marianne had requested to be designed for Bog. 

The royal jeweler had done a magnificent job. The ring was white gold with two dragonflies on either side of a square piece of amber. Marianne took Bog's hand, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes as she slid the ring onto his finger. “I take you as my husband for now until the end of time, and beyond.” 

Bog's cheeks were rosy as he motioned for the ring. Sunny stepped forward placing the ring for Marianne in his hand. The ring was also made of white gold, the carvings of tiny diamond butterflies and primroses with tiny purple stones in their centers. The main jewel was in the shape of a elegant primrose with petals of deep amethyst, a simple perfect diamond in the middle. It was done all in small, delicate detail. He took her hand, his fingers for a moment caressing her palm. “I take you as my wife, for now until the end of time, and beyond.” 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sire, you may now kiss your bride.” The old priest grinned and stepped back. 

Bog pulled Marianne against his chest, his eyes dancing, his smile bright and glorious. Marianne giggled as with one hand around her waist, he lifted her veil with his free hand, gently pulling it back. “My wife,” he murmured smiling at her. 

Marianne returned his smile. “My husband.” 

Bog leaned in and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling herself tight against him. Bog nearly lifted her off the floor. The church exploded with noise as the crowd broke into applause. 

Bog let her go gently with a laugh. Then he took her hand in his, but instead of taking a stately royal walk down the aisle they both took off at a playful jog. The crowd exploded with cheers, petals being thrown at the happy couple. 

They burst outside where it seemed the entire kingdom was waiting. Cheers met them and more flowers were thrown. The horses of their wedding carriage neighed, decorated with more flowers. The carriage was open with red velvet seats with the royal primrose crest emblazoned on the side. They stopped at the upper most steps of the church so that Marianne could throw her bouquet to the crowd. There were cheers as a bright-faced young woman caught the new queen-to-be's bouquet, but then Bog and Marianne were dashing for the carriage. 

* 

They took a tour of the city in the carriage so everyone could see the king's new wife. Everywhere flowers were thrown. They stopped several times to enter houses or establishments who wished to bless the new couple. They were served wine, pastries, and a number of things which they politely accepted taking bites, spending a few minutes speaking with the proprietors, and common folk who bestowed gifts and blessings, and who in turn felt blessed that the royal couple had visited them. Bog was a wonder to watch; his people really did love him. He spoke with everyone he could, shook hands, accepted kisses to his hands or sudden wild embraces with good humor and a smile. The only people who seemed the least bit upset were their guards who seemed to be flustered anytime someone touched either of them. 

Marianne watched Bog, falling more and more in love with the man she had just married. She was given so many flowers while they were about that she started sharing them with children, tossing them out as their carriage passed by to the children running alongside their carriage. Several times during the tour of the city, the people would yell for them to kiss. Bog would blush, but shout back playfully to the crowd that it was up to his new wife. Marianne would laugh catching her husband's face between her hands and kiss him to the wild cheers of the crowds. 

When the lanterns were beginning to be lit their royal carriage finally started back to the castle. Bog leaned in close putting an arm around her waist. “How are you holding up?” 

Marianne smiled. “Tired, but I'm fine.” 

Bog lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “I love you, my wife.” 

Marianne gazed lovingly at him. “I love you, my husband.” 

Bog grinned. “I will never tire of hearing that.” 

* 

When they arrived back at the castle, it was aglow with light. Inside, the dining room had been set with the best the castle had to offer in food and drink, though now only the most intimate of friends and family were there for the wedding feast. Before dinner would begin, Marianne was escorted to her new wardrobe room where Dawn was waiting anxiously for her. Dawn had already changed for dinner into a soft blue dinner dress with her hair down and held back by a simple white ribbon. She looked sweet and innocent but ready to drag her sister into the room and strip her. “I have your dress ready!” 

“Oh, Dawn!! I feel like I am dreaming!” Marianne giggled. 

Dawn giggled as well, but grabbed her sister. “Come on dreamer, let's get you dressed for dinner.” 

Marianne could not stop herself from smiling as she dressed and her sister redid her hair, keeping the diamonds and pearls that had been woven into her locks, but letting it fall loose down her back. The dress was a soft blush color, tiny primrose details along her neck line. Dawn wove a ribbon through her hair that matched the color of the dress, but then she surprised her sister by putting a simple yet lovely necklace of a thin silver chain that held a single tiny pink teardrop pearl. Marianne touched it with a gasp. “What is this?” 

Dawn grinned. “Bog sent it over for you. He said to tell you it is your first gift as his wife.” Marianne's eyes became glossy with unshed tears, her fingertips caressing the pearl. 

* 

Marianne was escorted from her wardrobe—after Dawn had left with instructions not to mess her hair up or there would be hell to pay tomorrow. She entered the hall where she saw Bog waiting for her. He had changed into a suit of deep burnished gold, the waistcoat heavily embroidered with tiny primroses that matched the details of her dress. He paced waiting for her to emerge, but when he saw his wife, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide. Marianne giggled. “Bog?” 

He rushed over grabbing her hands. “You are more beautiful each time I see you.” 

He held her hands up to his mouth brushing his lips against them, his eyes never straying from hers. For a moment they both forgot about dinner, the guards around them, everything. They simply stared at each other. Bog suddenly dropped her hands, both of them throwing themselves at each other in a heated kiss. The guards all as one, turned around so that their backs were to the new couple, giving them a few moments of privacy. 

* 

Inside the dining room, Griselda frowned. Where were they? Everyone was standing by their seats waiting for the two of them to appear! They had had enough time to change for dinner. She had changed, Plum was changed. EVERYONE was changed! 

She excused herself and hurried to the doors where they should have been entering the dining hall. She stuck her head out into the hallway looking for her son and new daughter-in-law only to see her son and his new wife having found a corner where the two of them were acting like a couple of school children hiding from their parents while playing naughty games! Griselda chuckled, but she cleared her throat. Bog and Marianne jumped away from each other like adolescents being caught in the barn. “Your guests are waiting. Besides, you both have tonight for that.” His mother chuckled again before stepping back to allow the announcement of the king and his wife. 

Bog blushed, looking down at his wife. “I cannot believe we were just caught by my mother.” Marianne giggled, something she had been doing a great deal today. “Come, my husband. Let us go eat. Perhaps we shall need our strength this evening.” The gleam in her eyes made Bog's blood run hot. He swallowed taking her arm, straightening to his full height, and then gave his wife a wink which she returned before the doors were flung open and the newlyweds were announced. 

* 

The new couple stole away from the crowd of well-wishers after dinner. The meal had been splendid, everything one would expect from a royal wedding feast. The cake had been five tiers, painted by cake artists to resemble water color pictures, one tier the greenhouse and gardens, another their first dance, another the ball, while the last two tiers were the wedding and a beautiful image of the castle. There were candy butterflies and primroses flowing over the cake which Bog had distributed to the staff of the castle, especially those working tonight that had little one's at home. 

After the cake was cut, Bog tenderly fed his wife a bite, his eyes watching her face with a smile. Marianne responded in kind, standing on her tiptoes slightly and holding up the fork to his lips with a lustful look in her warm brown eyes that had Bog shivering with anticipation. 

But now there was to be dancing until it was time to lead the couple to the royal bedchamber where one more ceremony was to be performed before they would be left alone. Bog and Marianne had danced the first dance together. Bog had waltzed her around slowly to the music his eyes only for her. Marianne held his hand tightly, her other hand that should have stayed on his shoulder moved to his throat where she caressed his face as they moved around the dance floor, the lights reflecting off the polished wood like stars. After their first dance, Dagda came out to take his daughter from Bog and Griselda to dance with her son. The two couples circled each other until Marianne switched with Bog so that to finish the dance Dadga was dancing with Griselda. With a round of applause the dance floor filled with guests. Bog took that moment to steal his bride away, slipping the hovering guards and the celebratory guests. 

They had wandered outside to the gardens. The music could be heard as a soft muffled sound joined by laughing and other sounds of celebration in the background. Bog held Marianne's arm wrapped around his, the two of them taking in the fresh night air. 

He smiled at his new bride. “Are you happy?” 

Marianne laughed. “Deliriously happy.” 

Bog laughed, kissing her hand. “I never thought I could be this happy. Never thought...well...I never thought I would marry for love.” 

Marianne laid her head against his shoulder when they stopped to look at the stars. “I never thought I could find someone like you, Bog. I never thought I would find real love.” 

They were quiet for a few moments before Bog turned her to place his arms around her. “I love you, Marianne. My wife.” 

“I love you, my King, my husband...my Bog.” 

They kissed, a tender loving kiss that made the stars look pale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this story. :)


End file.
